Something About That Freshman
by omACAgee
Summary: Chloe Beale is a smart, well behaved and well mannered girl, living a normal, young girl's life during her time as a college student. Things start to get fishy around the streets of Barden and it seems to be happening more frequent when a brand new freshman, with a bad girl image catches her eyes and there is just something not right about this one. (Bechloe AU)
1. Chapter 1

**I'm SUPER excited about this new series guys, like you have no idea. It's on the fantasy/supernatural type of story, which are extremely fun to write and also, I've changed it up to write in second person. This is a Chloe's POV and I wanted her story to be as relatable as it can get for those who read. So hopefully it works!**

 **Rated M for..**

 **Adult language**

 **Sexual themes**

 **Adult themes, such as drinking as drugs**

 **Violence**

 **If any of those trigger you in anyway, it's safe not to read!**

 **Well, I hope you guys like the first installment!**

 **(I DO NOT OWN PITCH PERFECT)**

* * *

 **Chapter One: Welcome to Barden**

Barden University.

Unique, cheap, and probably the only place people would willingly travel all the way down Atlanta to visit, other than eating Georgia's peaches, which are delicious by the way. That's mostly the reason why you decided to apply towards the end of your senior year of high school, plus, your mom was an alumni here so basically you were sort of famous.

Sort of.

You're a senior this year at Barden, almost done with classes and you're praying to God that Russian lit doesn't kick your ass like it did last year _(second time taking it because turns out, it's ridiculously hard)_ because who knows how many years a student can take a course and not end up passing before the school cuts the cord, saving you the time and energy. It wouldn't be so bad if it wasn't listed under your requirement courses to get into an impressive masters program. If that was the case, you'd never take Russian Lit because 1). You're not dumb and 2). You want to have a social life that's not nose deep in a different language literature novel.

Other than your studies, which for the most part are pretty tight at a C/B level average, you're head sister at the only sorority house on campus, Beta Theta Pi, or what they're mostly referred to as the "Beta Bellas," and what guys and other fraternities on campus refer to the sorority as "Babe Paradise." Holding true to the nickname created once this house was built in the prehistoric days, the Bellas' have an image and that image may or may not be the insanely gorgeous, tall, annoyingly smart but in a sexy way, and all around the _perfect_ girl and the _perfect_ bikini body type.

You, knowing your mom was once a Bella back in the olden days-same with your grandma, great grandma, great great grandma and all Hell would break lose if you were to break the tradition-immediately pledged without even a bat with the eyes at the dorm tours going around Barden and when you did, you met your current best friend and also other head sister in the Bellas, Aubrey Posen.

The two of you are an... _odd_ click, to say the least. Aubrey is the uptight, control freak who pukes under pressure, but occasionally can let her hair down when she wants to, have a good time. And trust everyone when they say this, it's a sight to see.

You on the other hand are upbeat instead of uptight, more of a "enjoyer" than a control freak, bubbly as your main emotion and are friends with almost every person at Barden and then some, regardless of their social rank. Being a member of Beta Pi automatically throws you on top of the totem pole when it comes to popularity. But you, never to fond of clicks and who you can and cannot associate yourself with just simply talks to everybody-loves everybody, and that's one of the many reasons why you were voted for head sister of the Bellas.

A silent leader who leads by example, a girl who screams a good time, but also one who has her properties straight. Similar to Aubrey, but not to an extent like hers, the Bellas mean the world to you. Every girl, sister or brand new pledgee, you'd bend over backwards for them. Which is why this year coming to Barden after a long, relaxing summer in Tampa where your family is living, it was extremely different and hard to come back knowing one of your sisters has gone missing.

Out of the three years so far that you've stayed in college, Barden has been an all around safe campus with nothing happening to the extreme. Of course, every once in awhile there would be weirdos walking around at night, hassling people for money, or throwing catcalls at girls who are walking home from their night classes. That part was inevitable with all the sickos living in the world.

But for the most part, the school was a safe place.

 _Jesus_ , at orientation they handed out rape whistles.

If that doesn't scream paranoia then you don't know what does.

Anyways, with thinking that nothing bad, to say, would happen at Barden, it was more than a little scary to find out through the news that there has been an abduction of senior, Gretchen Halls, current Bella and ranked high on the honor rolls and also one of your good friends in the sorority at Barden University.

She was doing summer classes at Barden, living in the Bellas' house so she could possibly graduate early if taken the right amount of credits. School came easy to her; she wasn't bad and partied all the time. If she wasn't required to go out and do events with the Bellas, you usually would find her at the library, or in her room cramming for a test that was scheduled for next month. To contradict this "nerd" description, Gretchen was gorgeous, with her long, semi wavy blonde hair, bright green eyes, perfect body shape and just a Barbie look alike all around.

It made sense that she'd be a top candidate for a creepy creeper looking for someone to kidnap.

Police and detectives went for weeks during the early months of August before students started arriving for this year's courses looking for Gretchen, but they could only say the girl was missing for so long, searching every inch of Georgia before it got to the point where it became pointless.

Coming back was hard; things changed tremendously and going about daily and or nightly activities were more strict than they have ever been before. People were jumpy all the time after the funeral, and their safety felt more threatened than ever before, which made sense. Attendance rates sunk, college dropouts for Barden was at an all time high. It was something serious that the school never thought they'd have to experience.

But you guess the school just got lucky this time.

That wasn't the only thing sketchy that has been going on. Rumors floated around campus, throughout the towns of something strange taking place in a nearby forest next to Barden. Like some paranormal activity. Stories in those few shorts weeks before school started would be mustered up by teenagers and if you were to go a certain depth inside the forest, you'd never make it out alive. People didn't take this part too seriously; it's like you mention the thought of spirits and everyone thinks it's bat shit crazy.

And for the most part so far, they've been right. Nothing bad has happened, other than the one abductions. No goons, no goblins and most definitely no ghost have been seen other than the boy who cried wolf stories.

But what else could you do at that point if there _was_ something weird going on? Exactly what Barden is doing, praying that nothing else bad would come their way and if it does happen, there would be someone there to stop….. _whatever_ it was going on.

* * *

It's the Sunday before classes actually start, with freshman orientation happening early tomorrow morning that you and Aubrey have to run, sending and passing out flyers to girls who would be interested in pledging to become a Bella. You're one of the very few hanging around in the house after just getting done cleaning, making sure everything is in top shape before the rest of the girls come. Majority of your sisters are heading back to Barden early tomorrow since upperclassmen don't have any classes until Tuesday and wanted the extra day off peace before college drains the living life out from them.

For dinner, you went out and got a salad from a nearby deli and are just about to kick your feet up, watch some Netflix and enjoy the quiet night alone until you hear your phone going off on the charger. You groan out loud because one, you're already in bed and two, receiving your phone requires you to actually move and walk over to your desk where's it plugged into a music dock.

But once a couple more texts come through, you figure that whoever is trying to get your attention has something important to say so, you throw off your blankets that are layering your legs, giving just the right amount of heat and head to grab your phone.

 _[Aubrey Posen_ _ **6:34 PM]**_ _There has been another abduction_

 _[Aubrey Posen_ _ **6:35 PM** __] Two of them this time_

You gasp at the news and just when you're about to text Aubrey back, you receive the Amber Alert and a campus security text through your phone, informing you that Terra Holmes and roommate Sindy Rickett, both starting volleyball players for Barden, have just gone missing while out walking to their car. Another text comes in, announcing Barden is on lockdown until further notice and this time since you're on campus during these kidnappings, freaking out is your first and only reflex.

You don't even for a second think that this is some sick joke someone is pulling, knowing damn sure that Barden is too on the edge to joke about a thing as serious as this. With the weird sightings that have yet to be stated true and not myths, along with the missing whereabouts of Gretchen, the fear around town and campus has been more than obvious.

Just about to call Aubrey and see where and when she is arriving back at Barden, your phone goes off and it's her already calling.

You slide the bar to the left, "Bree!" and don't waste a second before practically screaming into the device. If anything were to happen to your best friend, you wouldn't know how to live with yourself.

" _Are you okay? Is everyone in the house okay?"_ Aubrey's rushed, and panicked voice only tips you off the edge with how scared you actually are and then the flood of endless possibilities of someone, or yourself wasn't okay immediately wash through your mind to make the situation worse.

"We are fine, Barden is on lockdown," you breath out and Aubrey releases a relieved sigh at the information. You go over to your window to take a look outside and just when you do, multiple police cars with their lights off speed through the neighborhood in direction of where the dorms are, also where both Terra and Sindy lived.

Seeing the seriousness of the scene unfold and feeling like you're living in a real horror movie, tears start to pool in your eyes from fear and you really just wished your best friend was here with you right now.

"Where are you!?" You don't even try to hide how scared you are in your voice and Aubrey has to shush you when you ramble off panicked, with other questions regarding her whereabouts so she can finally speak.

" _I'm driving back now. Everything is going to be okay, Chlo. Just…..stay inside, tell all the other girls as well and please be safe."_

Everything you think that Aubrey says goes in one ear, out the other as you are experiencing a real life crime that you'd read about in newspapers, or watch in a scary movie. You just hope that Aubrey is right, that everything will be okay.

And most importantly, those two girls will be found and whoever this sick bastard thinks he is gets caught and thrown in jail.

The least Barden needs is a sicko on the loose.

* * *

The next day goes on as if the previous night never happened, as well as the two girls who have gone missing. For the most part, people aren't really talking about it; police avoid the subject like the plague and back it up with fluff in attempt to make the situation less worse than it is. The only people who are making it a big deal-to which they should- are the two girls' parents, who demand answers under their emotionally damaged state as to where their daughters have gone.

You also want a few questions answered, for example, why Terra and Sindy? They were star players on the volleyball team, excelled in all their studies, hardly ever partied and when they did, drinking was out of the equation. Their boyfriends, (lucky them) have been taken in as suspects by police almost instantly. You envied how gorgeous and how boys looked up to these girls like lost puppies, so the only logical thing to defend them gone missing is to bring the last people in that they've seen.

But just like you thought, the two boys who have showed nothing but good intentions regarding their girlfriends were innocent when it came to the abductions, which kind of sucks because it still leaves you with a big giant question mark as to who could have done it, or where the girls may have gone. It would have made things a whole lot easier and Barden wouldn't have to continue living in fear every time they walk home, or go to sleep. For now though as it's the only real option left to do, people move on with their lives and just cross their fingers they aren't next on the list.

Aubrey and you head to campus with a stack of freshly printed papers with useful information about becoming a Bella for passing out to any girl interested. As the orientation for the new freshman class cuts to an end as you resume busy passing out flyers, you catch a glimpse of a grungier looking girl, wearing all black everything as her tight black skinny jeans go hand in hand with a tight black tank top and swift leather jacket up top to add to the bad girl image. She also has on a pair of black heeled boots; the type of boots that typical teenagers wouldn't be caught dead wearing and she has a pair of aviators resting in the crevice of her chest, right at the neck of that tank top showing of way more than your body is capable of handling.

The both of you lock eyes in the distance; and for a second, you think that time has suddenly stopped working and this mystery girl is the only thing left on planet earth with you while playing in the background is some classic 80's rock song from a popular hair band. Her eyes are dark, so dark they look black from the distance keeping the two of you apart, no thanks to the pounds of eyeliner the girl applied, yet it still is perfected and still nonetheless hypnotizing as you stand there frozen in your wooden wedges, knees shaking as if they're about to collapse at any second.

Aubrey gives you a sharp jab to the rib cage with her bony elbow and it scares you half to death when you realizes that there are other people around you and not just this new freshman on campus that already has you intrigued by only a single glance. You keep your eyes locked on the girl from afar, watching as she goes about typing on her cell phone without so much of a care to the world, the sun adding a sort of shimmer to her flawlessly done, loose chocolate curls that look abnormally soft and similar to a Neutrogena commercial you usually envy on T.V.

Aubrey elbows you again because somehow as you soak in more about this freshman that caught your eye the moment she walked out of the auditorium, you've missed more of what Aubrey had to say and in your defense, this girl is a real show stopper and to be quite frank, you're weak when it comes to admiring beautiful girls. Adding a hint of edge and mystery only makes you that much more weaker, thus why you can't for the life of you take your eyes of this girl.

"Are you even listening to me?" Aubrey is scowling; you don't even need to look at her to know her patience is running thin here by the noticeable hiss under her tone and you also know that during the past... two minutes, you estimate, you're more than positive you've blacked out, so the answer is no.

Definitely not paying attention to anything Aubrey is saying right now and instead is conjuring up the best way to talk to this girl if it's the last thing you'll do.

"What?" You hum out, clearly uninterested in anything _but_ this freshman and you take a look for yourself to see a nasty look on your blonde friend's face, teeth gritting in irritation. Also doing this-no thanks to Aubrey who is just one big distraction- you end up losing sight of this freshman as the crowd from the gymnasium exits in a stampede and you desperately search around the entire perimeter in hopes of finding that one girl again.

You start to panic, thinking that maybe you've either hallucinated this mystery girl, or simply you've just lost track of her by a non-important distraction but luckily, your eyes land on that same freshman walking by her lonesome up to an impressive muscle car; a blacked out 1969 Ford Mustang Fastback with the windows tinted black (thanks to your brothers for your knowledge on pieces of metal) and you just can't help but sigh at the image because _of course_ this girl drives a nice car like that.

But it also makes you wonder why she has a car on campus- _a really freaking nice car_ \- when usually it's unnatural for freshman to bring vehicles up their first year at Barden since living in the dorms is recommended and there's really no point in having a car anyway.

Aubrey follows your line of sight. "You _cannot_ be serious, Chloe," her voice screams astounded by the little huffs and grumbles under her breath about the girl being _WAY_ too alternative, but you're too engrossed on such a beautiful creature that all she is saying is muffled completely.

Moving behind your gut, "let's go introduce ourselves," you chirp determined, like nothing can stop you from doing this, not even Aubrey's harsh refusals to interacting with that so called " _alt_ " girl.

Totally ignoring any more nonsense that Aubrey is lecturing you about this time, you mindlessly weave your arm through your friend's and drag her in the direction of the student parking lot. Making it there rather quickly as you try to ease your breathing and _not_ make it sound like you didn't just purposely sprint up to this freshman's car with your best friend in tow, you get slapped up, down, and side to side at how insanely attractive this girl is up close and personal. No doubt about it was she eye candy from the distance, but seeing the true steely color of her eyes; a greyish blue now that you're close enough and they aren't being drowned out by the heavy amount of eye makeup, you honestly think a whimper slips out when you are face to face with her.

Aubrey yanks her arm away and you kinda don't feel it because you think your entire body has just gone numb being in a close enough distance to feel the presence of this intoxicating human being. Really, you for one get a lot of attention from others around you and needless to say, they all are pretty attractive. Never _once_ with them though have you felt such like a teenager with a heart throbbing crush like you are feeling right now being this close to this new girl and first of all, you have never talked nor know her first name.

That should tell you something right there.

"Hi!" Ignoring all signs that point to "you are a batshit crazy lady who walks up to random strangers like a lost puppy," you reach out a hand for the new girl to shake anyways. "I'm Chloe, and this is Aubrey!" You possibly couldn't have said this any more chipper than how it came out and by the pitch, it makes the new girl flinch in the face a bit.

She doesn't at first take your hand and it's awkwardly just floating in the little distance shared between the two of you, empty and all. You keep a giant grin plastered though, even when you feel like crawling up into a tiny little ball because _holy cow_ this girl is way to intimidating for being a freshman. What she does do eventually is eye you suspiciously, more so your empty raised hand than anything and when she does take the effort in shaking it, you think you've never felt softer, delicate skin before.

"Beca," she greets slowly and the corners of her mouth twitch into a half smile, maybe it's a smirk; you aren't really sure, but whatever it is, the power behind the smile is enough for your knees to give out and you're sighing deeply into the side of Aubrey for support, thinking that your friend is going to have to mop you away from the amount of swooning you're doing.

You're so affected by this that you miss the obviously annoyed huffs and puffs emitting from your best friend as she side checks you with her hip, hoping this little "fit" of yours that is more than a little embarrassing ends soon.

Once you've regained your footing, cleared your throat and prayed that Beca (God, what a cute name for such a cute girl) doesn't think too much of this embarrassing action you've just performed, you toss her one of your signature smiles before speaking again. "Freshman?"

"Freshman," Beca echoes and then points at her name tag just above the left side of her chest and under the lift of her leather jacket.

You read the words "Rebeca Mitchell" written in sloppy handwriting and can assume that using her full name is a hard no since she didn't go by the name, Rebeca. Still though you think it's a fitting name; edgy and tough.

Sexy and all.

"It's nice to meet you," you beam bright, trying hard not to stare too long into those dark orbs that should really be considered weapons and illegal.

"Yeah," Beca breaths out, eyeing both you and Aubrey, who doesn't even make the attempt to hide the sour scowl on her face as they conversate. "I'd say the same for you, but it looks like you have more things to worry about, like the stick up your ass." This comment is definitely directed towards Aubrey and like a raging bull, you can visibly see the stream of smoke blowing from her nostrils as she fights back the urge to slap this girl.

You for your part thinks it's a brave move since Aubrey is known to have quite the temper and with Beca only being a freshman, the bold courage is all around extremely attractive in your eyes.

"Excuse me?" Aubrey snaps and it's impressive that you didn't hear anything worse slip from her mouth, knowing the amount of vulgarity going on inside her head regarding this freshman is truly frightening and something not _friendly_ appropriate.

There's a devious smile still on Beca's face, like she already enjoys getting Aubrey so riled up and is having a kick at pissing off your best friend. You think otherwise because you know what Aubrey is capable of, invoking verbal beat downs and would prefer not to bail her out of jail for damaging a freshman.

So, you cut in before Beca's response, knowing it would only tick Aubrey off like a time bomb. "Nice car!" With your head, you gesture to the sports car that is holding up Beca as she sits on the front hood.

She smiles cocky at the compliment, then pats the metal beside her and crosses her legs over each other. "Thanks. Saved up for this one."

And like, _duh_.

There's no doubt this freshman has the nicest freaking car on campus right now, which only makes her ten times more irresistible for you. It wasn't until roughly five minutes ago that you soon discovered that one of your turn ons is a person with a nice ride.

Long story short, Beca's car and consider yourself turned on.

"And how did you afford this?" There goes Aubrey again, retorting with something bitchy and for once, you want to slap your hand over her mouth, or duct tape it shut so she wouldn't be able to say anything else that may make Beca run for the hills. "Robbery? Drugs?"

You groan out loud because _wow_. There's a fine line when it comes to talking to people, asking what and what not to ask and Aubrey here just _flew_ right pass it.

Beca doesn't say anything back to Aubrey's comment but only smirks; something that has not only been one of your favorite things about the girl, but also her go to facial expression, which you have no complaints there. She does eventually start to speak after she emits a type of low chuckle that again, almost makes your legs collapse and you feel your eyes twist to the ultimate definition of "heart eyes."

"You see blondie," Beca starts, but stops mid sentence as she takes the aviators from the crease of her chest where they were hanging delicately above her Tank and slides them to cover her eyes. _Lord help me,_ you think as this new girl has just became your kryptonite. "Drugs and robbery aren't nearly half as bad compared to what I actually do."

And okay, what the Hell was that suppose to mean?

Aubrey opens her mouth as if she's about to comment on this, but just like you, who stands puzzled in pondering the possible options that could possibly be worse than selling drugs, she seems way too taken back by Beca's response.

Needing a quick change it topic before things get too heated between the two and the awkward silence becomes unbearable, "how is Barden treating you so far?" you sputter out. "Need a tour around campus?" Not being done just yet with this freshman, small talk is your last resort as you catch Beca already fishing for her keys, unlocking her car as if she is about to leave.

"It's good, I'm good, but I gotta go." And it seems like your disappointment present in your body language when hearing the lack of enthusiasm and effort to stay and chat was more than apparent, Beca shoots you another smirk. "I'll see you around, Red."

You try to respond to this; the nickname ends up taking all your words and mashes them together, only to form a stuttering mess while you watch Beca enter her car before speeding out of the student parking lot, tires burning on the black pavement and a cloud of black smoke gassing out everyone around. Aubrey coughs dramatically from the smoke, waving her hand around frantically as she tries to clear up the air and you stand more affected by the fact that Beca is gone rather than the ability to breathe.

 _440 engine,_ you note by the monstrous roar of the engine echoing in Beca's car from afar. That's pretty damn impressive, if you were to ask your brothers. How in the world could a eighteen year old afford something like that? You can barley afford your slug bug while working at the campus coffee shop on a regular basis. Either way though, car or no car, Beca is still at the top of your list to get to know.

It's one thing being so entranced by someone you just met that everything else in the world doesn't seem right anymore and it's another to realize that this _so called_ person happens to be a freshman.

But dealing with both at the same time, which happens to now be your biggest dilemma, you have no idea how to go about it.

"Classy, very classy," Aubrey mutters under her breath, obviously irritated by the scene Beca just caused with the smoke and car and the comments. "Chances are she'll drop out. Girl looks like she sells drugs for a living…which is probably why she can afford such a nice car!" Aubrey connects the dots and you just bat your eyelashes, thinking that what she just said is completely delusional.

Beca seems nice-a lot nicer than what her presence gave off. Yeah she is more pricklier than the usually person; her attitude is kind of snarky and you can already tell the girl only lets a few if not _zero_ people into her personal bubble.

But Aubrey is right about one thing, there's a riddle to this girl that you can't seem to lay a finger on but will do anything just to figure it out.

She's different, but the good type of different that draws you in and you really wish now that you could've sacked up and asked for her number or something because who knows when you'll get the chance to see her again on campus, especially since you're a senior and she's a freshman.

"Let's get back to work," Aubrey demands, brushing at the bottom of her dress before walking to a group of girls talking to their parents by the fountains.

You follow, seeing that the only good thing about today is now gone and you don't know if you'll be lucky enough to see Beca again.

Guess Facebook is your next stop after you finish passing out these rush flyers; you got a first name, and a last name. That's all you need to find someone you're looking for on the beautiful invention called the _internet_.

* * *

It's been a week and a half since your little encounter with Beca and since then, you haven't been lucky enough to run into her, which honestly, you didn't even hold your breath because the odds were not in your favor.

She didn't even have a Facebook, which shocked you to no other. Like seriously, everyone has at least one form of social media even if it's just plain like a Pinterest account. Her though, she has _none_ , and now you're starting to believe you'll never see her again unless you go full stalker on campus and scope her out, which you don't because even thinking about it gives you hardcore creeper vibes.

The hope is still there as the week continues, though it shouldn't be. You know if you haven't seen her yet around school and it's been going on for almost two weeks now, chances are you'll never see her again.

There goes getting to know the real her over some morning coffee; she probably is a fan of her's being black, or dinner at a nearby burger joint.

What a shame.

The first weeks at Barden are mostly boring; professors go over the syllabus for class and usual doing that only take about fifteen minutes. Then there's introductions to the work you'll be doing, projects, which means saying goodbye to your social life and sanity, buying overly priced books and _blah blah blah blah blah._

All that pointless jazz.

For you, being one of the lucky ones who attends Barden, your professors hate life and mostly their students so they assign a crapload of material and expect everyone to know it by a certain time. It doesn't matter that students are getting the hang and feel of college again, maybe settle down before to the storm that's destined to come. Nope. Not in all the higher level courses that you have the honors of taking right before graduation.

Welcome to college everybody.

The afternoon doesn't go as planned with classes since in the middle of your Russian Lit class during lecture, an announcement blares through the overhead speakers warning that Barden is on lock down after strange activity has been reported around campus, but the person behind it remains unknown.

As scary as it may sound, nothing ends up happening; the only thing scary that happened is an announcement that you have a quiz coming up in two days that you haven't studied for. Plus, the rest of class got cancelled and allowed you to get a head start on your afternoon, so not everything went bad, per say.

To say that Barden has been on more of the edge with things, ever since a couple students went missing and are _**still**_ declared missing a week before school started is more than an understatement. Strict curfews at an abnormal hour have been created and campus security, with even a few Atlanta police officers monitoring campus have taken them very seriously and anyone out after ten while they're out patrolling would receive a ticket, claiming that they're only doing this for our safety. More and more emergency phones are in the process of being built and everyone this time, regardless if you want to or not is required to carry around a rape whistle.

It's pretty sketchy; you are aware of this. Missing students, especially knowing that all of them that happened to gone missing have been only reported as females is terrifying and it even makes you feel a little unsafe when you're at the house late at night, everyone around you is either sleeping or going about their own business. What helps a lot is being surrounded by thirty returning girls in one giant house and even more to come once school eases for the freshman. Also your house mom is the prime definition of a total badass and would walk through fire to protect her girls, so if Barden's kidnapper or raper, (whatever he is) wants to deal all of that, he has something else coming his way.

Once you make it home after a peaceful stroll around campus; the weather is weirdly beautiful outside and it caused you to venture the long route back instead of walking the usual, you receive a text about a mandatory chapter meeting going on for the Bellas to talk about the rush you seniors are planning. One thing you hate more than school is these weekly meetings, and Aubrey, being uptight and controlling about every little thing going on around the Bellas gives you way more anxiety than you would like. But you still love her, and you still have certains duties that have to be met when being head sister so you kick your irritation you have stored for this dreadful meeting and meet the girls in the Beta house conference room.

After talking about rush and what the Bellas are planning on doing as far as the house tour for their pledgees coming up, you find yourself laying face down in bed, exhausted, drained and just _so_ over today. You also find yourself suddenly thinking about a certain freshman that hasn't been off your mind since the day you were lucky enough to run into her and that alone eats you alive as you wish by some miracle, you'd see her again.

It's the strangest thing you think, wanting to see this freshman, Beca, again, and if you don't, you seriously think that you might explode.

Like, what was it about this girl that has you craving her like a drug? And only after one encounter that you can't even consider an actual conversation because as a whole, it only lasted about three minutes. She screams antisocial and moody and grumpy; someone who hates people in general and would rather be left alone, or watch paint dry than to have an actual conversation. And you know that she does this, carries this armor around her because it's the easy thing to do and turns everyone away without all the work.

But then there's you, wanting to turn that right around and you have absolutely no idea why that is.

Roxy, the Bellas' house mother, announces through the entire house that she is doing a shopping run and if anyone wants something special to write it down on a list to give to her before she leaves. You jot down a few things; coffee, fruits for your smoothies and some sour patch kids, a little junk food never hurts. You give Roxy your personal list before telling her to be safe; with the way things are going around Barden it's best to stay cautious at all times.

Plus, Roxy is pretty foxy for her age, as that is where the infamous nickname came about from fraternities and would definitely be under the spotlight for a creepy man hunting the streets of Barden.

About to walk back upstairs to do God knows what, maybe sleep the rest of your Thursday away since nothing better seems to be coming about, you catch Aubrey sitting in the kitchen, tying her running shoes and is wearing all her workout clothes. You enter the kitchen with a smile, hands held behind your back and rock on the heels of your feet, waiting for Aubrey to lift her head up from where she has her attention glued to her shoes and when she does, you're returned with a playful eye roll and a smirk before she gives you a countdown to be ready in five or else she is leaving without you.

You manage to throw on some leggings, a long sleeve shirt, toss your hair up in a high pony and finish with a worn down pair of Nikes in an impressive amount of time and you meet Aubrey outside where she is fiddling around with her armband that has her phone placed snugly in the carrier and unraveling the knots in her earbuds. Doing the same and cueing up your best work out playlist for evening runs like this, the two of you share an "OK" nod before taking off around the neighborhood.

* * *

Running, you've came to conclusion, is relaxing once you get past the agonizing dread of not wanting to go and start to think less of Netflix and sleeping in your cozy bed.

But once you actually get going, your feet running mindless above the pavement as you watch the sunset lower behind the buildings, the cool breeze from Georgia weather hitting against your skin, there's nothing else you'd rather be doing and luckily, you've snatched a best friend who loves exercising as much as you do and together you made a habit of taking twilight runs around campus frequently.

About a half hour into the run and now trotting along the trails somewhere in a forest nearby the University; the same forest that may or may not be the sketchy one everyone talks about, you and Aubrey take a breather by a tree, leaning against the stub while you try to catch all the oxygen back into your body. Your chest heaves for air and all the muscles in your legs are burning in the best ways and you can feel slight perspiration along your forehead, but still with all of this going on, you feel amazing.

Aubrey's in the same stat as you're in, winded, exhausted and sweaty. She pulls out her phone from where it's attached to her arm and reads the time out loud, which is surprising because you didn't actually plan on running this long, especially this late at night.

"We should head back," Aubrey states, still winded, but slowly catching some of the air back as she's redoing her hair from the strands of hair that fell out of her ponytail.

You glance around the forest and take in the darkness surrounding you, only a faint glow from the streets lights coming from the distance feeding your ability to see. You agree to this because not only is it a creepy dark outside but also, the area you and Aubrey have coincidentally stopped isn't familiar territory like the rest of Barden is for you guys. Honestly, if it wasn't for the constant signs built up along sidewalks, pointing the lost parents of the new freshman attending over to campus, you'd screwed, having zero idea on how to get back and would be lost until you did.

How far the forest goes still in a mystery, knowing no one in their right mind after hearing those stories that might be true, probably not true ghost stories about the forest would venture out freely just to find that out. You couldn't agree more with the eerie chill tingling up your spine at the dead trees, owls and constant chirping of the crickets as the only audible sound.

But just as you're about to turn around, avoiding to fall deeper into the forest, which screams a bad idea like a billboard sign on the highway, a car's headlights pull up in the distance, lightening a good amount of the forest before it goes black again.

"Who's out here this late?" Aubrey asks skeptical as the two of you eye the black looking vehicle that has just parked dead center in the woods. "And why are they…. _here_?" This you can't answer because you have absolutely no idea who would want to spend the night in a creepy forest when there are kidnaps going on around campus and why they'd think a deserted place like this would be the safest option.

Nobody exits the car, which is sketchy too and you don't understand why your initial reaction is to go find out who this crazy person could be.

"I don't know," you respond, but switching to autopilot, you start mindlessly walking up to the car and Aubrey doesn't wastes a second before clinging her entire body into your side for protection.

As you cautiously tip toe over, most your body used as a shield for Aubrey who hasn't stopped whispering "this is a bad idea" in your ear since you first started hovering over to the creepy car. Finally, someone exits and _no idea why_ but your first reaction is too scream from the suspension, so that's what you do, and Aubrey being already jumpy about this whole situation echoes the scream, startling the person by their unannounced guests.

What's even scarier than the car parked in the forest late at night is the warming welcoming to a handgun pointed directly at your face and the person behind it is no other than Beca, the girl that has been running marathons inside your head for the past two weeks.

"Beca?" You say as if you are looking at a ghost and then, your eyes almost shoot from your head when the realization clicks that Beca is holding a gun pointed directly at you.

And taking a rough guess from how it looks thanks to the little light you have to make this observation, you can say the gun is _**real**_.

There's a series of expressions that Beca's face undergoes. It starts off with a nasty glare that's truly terrifying when it's directed towards you. Then it morphs from scary, to worried when you both lock eyes and she clicks something on the gun (probably the safety) before shoving it into her belt loops. Then, and lastly of the expressions, her eyebrows scrunch together with force and her eyes burn holes with lasers at the amount of rage laced beneath those dark eyes, and you really don't want to be here right now while Beca explodes like a smart bomb.

"What the _fuck_ are you guys doing?!" You flinch at the bark, though the yelling was inevitable as you studied Beca's body language go from about to kill someone to " _I could've shot you, are you stupid?!"_

Also, why the Hell did this girl have a gun on her?!

And why does she look so suspicious, like she just got caught stealing cookies from the cookie jar?

"What the fuck are _**you**_ doing, Beca?!" Aubrey takes control of the talking, snarling back with an even more harsh tone than Beca's. "And _why_ do you have a gun?!"

Beca's body language loosens up from her stance a bit and it's a damn miracle, you think. "Protection," she answers simply and in a far calmer tone than before. She even has the audacity to shrug, like it's a totally normal thing to carry around a pistol in your jeans like some Goddamn undercover cop. "Didn't your parents send you off to college with some form of protection?"

"Yeah….. something like _pepper spray_ you carry on a keychain, or a small taser!" Aubrey snaps, waving her arms around mad at Beca's causality about having a loaded weapon on her. "Not a real fucking gun, _are you crazy?!"_

At this time, you think your body is in shock as any way of forming actual words to communicate becomes impossible. And you really don't know if it's because of the fact Beca _technically_ almost shot you as a reflex with the pocket sized gun you now know she carries around, or the fact that this girl is still as jaw dropping as the first time you met her, and maybe even more with the weird attraction knowing she owns a gun. The badass chart with this girl only seems to get higher and higher and makes you wonder what else this girl is hiding.

She's wearing black again, which isn't too much of a shock. You take the time to wonder if Beca owns anything other than the color and leather while Aubrey trails off with her yelling.

"Is this legal?! Are you even old enough to carry a gun?! How did you get that pass campus security?!" Aubrey trails every possibility known to man and even you think her talking and the loud yelling is exhausting. You see that Beca feels the same because immediately and is in no way listening to anything that Aubrey is ranting about, she opens the driver's side door to her car, taking a seat and starting it without a care.

Beca scoffs and even though it's dark, you can see the dramatic eye roll that comes with it when she rolls down her window. "You going to rat on me, blondie?" There's that deathly smirk again and right now, you don't even feel the adrenaline anymore from the near heart attack you just edited because you're so washed up in Beca's insane level of attractiveness; the boldness with her words only making you more weak against the freshman.

"Uh, yeah, I should!" Aubrey screeches and every vein in her forehead looks like they're seconds away from bursting. "You just pointed a gun at us! In the middle of the forest! At night! Why wouldn't I report you?!" _That's a very good reason,_ you think a silently shrug, but is it what you want to happen? No. If that were the case, a phone number from Beca, something you more than want to have would be long gone.

"Because I don't think Red here will allow you to do that."

You hold your breath at the nickname as it's still able to give you a swarm of frenzy flutters like before in your stomach. Beca switches her focus to you; her smirk still strong and bright as day and you don't know why your immediate way to respond to this is by giggling.

Madly, might you add.

And maybe it's because you're sickly affected by this girl and you has zero idea why. Before she came along, you were smooth; the smoothest of them all and never had a problem talking to people, regardless of how attractive they were. But here she is, making you feel like you have no control over your own mouth and anything that comes out, like a pathetic, lovestruck fool.

"Isn't that right?" Beca adds in a cooing voice. It's kinda obvious that you're unable to form words properly and it's equally embarrassing as it is painful to watch as you try to muster up _anything_ at all, but it's too late, even if you were to respond because Beca is putting her car in reverse, window now rolled up and speeding out of the woods following the trail she came in with.

Now gone and in no attempt turning back, leaving both you and Aubrey confused with an answer as to why she was even out here in the first place, alone and secured with a gun, you stand flabbergasted. You also stand a little disappointed in yourself because you just made a fool out of yourself. There goes another chance of stealing Beca's number but no, you screwed it up with your awkwardness and inability to form human words.

 _Good job, Beale._

"Bree?" You finally choke out and your eyes stay glued on the area of where Beca once was. "Do you believe in love at first sight?" you ask in all seriousness and hope that what you are experiencing isn't anything too concerning. In addition, you also hide your disappointment to the once again very brief conversation with Beca this time around pretty darn well, being that your whole mood did a complete three sixty in the worse of ways.

Who knows when the next time will be when you'll get to see that rebel again. Hopefully this time it will be sooner than later.

After Aubrey finds her chill; her anger starting to fade and it no longer looks like her face is about to pop, she answers. "You can't honestly be smitten by….. _that thing,_ " she refers as if Beca is some sort of extraterrestrial freak. "I don't know what it is, but something about that girl is not right, and not just the fact she owns a gun," she concludes and you bite your lip at the thought because you can't help but think the same.

Beca is like pulling from a hat with your eyes closed, blind, never knowing what you're going to get, but every time, it's something different. And it's the exciting kind of different that's completely new to you, but is intriguing nonetheless. She's the kind of confident you don't see a lot in teenagers, especially freshman, and she walks with a sort of swagger that has all the signs pointing to a bad influence your mom would always warn you about.

And maybe Aubrey's right about there not being something right with Beca.

But even knowing that, you can't help but want to get down to the brim with Beca, discovering everything there is to know about the girl and all her hidden secrets and talents.

You never thought you'd be after such a bad girl girl before, taking that you've been holding the title of the "little goody two-shoes." But now, being raised as a Beale to go after something you want, there's no way in Hell Beca is getting off Scot free without your say and you can't help but crave a taste of the dark side now that you've been introduced to it.

* * *

 **What in God's name is going on around Barden? (I can guess what you all are thinking….but is it accurate?) ;)**


	2. Chapter 2

**YOU GUYS ROCK. Glad I have you all guessing about what Beca could be. So far, no one has been right ;)**

 **For chapter one, my tablet weirdly changed forest to "first" so I went back and changed all the grammar errors (or so I think) Sorry about that! Editing on that thing is ridiculously hard.**

 **Anyway, here's chapter two! Things will pick up next chap!**

 **(I DO NOT OWN PITCH PERFECT)**

* * *

 **Chapter Two: Miss Mitchell**

Walking home from your late night run is more on the creepy aspect of things and you're thanking your lucky star that you have Aubrey there with you to link arms while you venture through the ghastly silent streets of Barden without much protection. Lights are off, for the most part in buildings, houses and the dorms; it's not even breaking curfew, so you don't really know why Barden is so empty and quiet right now. Police officers are the only ones out, either walking with flash lights, inspecting campus for anything suspicious while parked police cars are found at every corner with even more officers patrolling undercover, looking for the same thing.

You and Aubrey wiggle your way pass all of them, even though they lecture the living life out of you multiple times, claiming that it's unsafe for two pretty girls to be walking alone this late at night and should go home immediately where you guys are not in danger. You appreciate the compliment and understand why more and more people are to the extreme cautious about everything going on, so you send them a understanding smile and agree to be safe walking around campus.

The irritation is still there, however, because as far as you know, it's only passing eight at night (which isn't even late like they're making it out to be) the same time you've been out on multiple occasions and not to jinx anything but you've kept yourself safe from Barden's kidnapper. Also, not to brag, but you're a tough cookie when you want to be, or have been pushed to that ticking point where you just can't sit and take something any longer without blowing up.

Just ask the guy who got a little too _handsy_ with you during a mixer at a frat party when you _specifically_ asked him not to keep his hands at your waist that passed dangerous territory and when he didn't listen, you verbally and _physically_ put him in his place, giving that jerk a piece of your own medicine.

Or in other words, broke his nose a kicked him in the manhood.

No longer after that night did he even try to make eye contact with you and for classes, which you had three together with, stayed as far away as possible he could humanly get, scared that any interaction would end him up in the hospital.

Talk about something to be proud of.

So with that story, you know that you can put up a pretty mean fight and aren't as fragile and delicate as these officers are making you out to be.

Once you guys get through lecture central from every damn police officer out patrolling tonight, the both of you make it the Bellas' house and Aubrey digs for her key in her zip up pocket before unlocking the door. Expecting everyone to be busy in their own rooms, it startles you a bit to open the door and find a very concerned and maybe even a little angry Roxy, who is pacing the living room with the house phone glued to her hand right behind it.

You're just about to ask what's the matter before the sound of the door opening alerts Roxy and the relieved expression that washes over her face sucks you out of saying anything at all before she's opening her mouth to speak.

Or yell.

"Where have you guys been?!" Roxy borderline screeches this and she jogs her way from behind where you and Aubrey are standing to shut the door, locking it completely. Again, you're about to say something, mouth wide open to probably ask why Roxy's face is seconds away from popping every vessel inside but she beats you to it. "'Do you know what time it is?!"

"Eight?" You finally have the chance to answer and apparently it's the wrong answer to this question because Roxy hits her boiling point with her arms flailing side to side and she's ordering you and Aubrey to sit on the couch immediately, like you both just got caught committing a crime. Following your house mother's orders and not chancing your odds with being murdered if disobeyed, Aubrey and you take a seat on the couch, still as confused as ever with why all of a sudden Roxy seems so paranoid.

Thinking that it wasn't possible, Roxy's body language relaxes; the imaginary steam blowing from her ears have subsided and she's hanging up the phone to the house dock before taking a seat on the opposite chair in front of the couch where you guys are sitting. "I'm sorry," she apologizes and it seems genuine. You for your part is just wondering what it is exactly that she's sorry for (minus the whole freak out show that she just performed not too long ago). Either way, whatever has her up a wall is making her coo coo psycho. "It's just...nighttime around here isn't as safe as it was before. Hell, even walking in the morning or afternoon isn't safe but we do it anyway."

You take a side glance at Aubrey, who is already looking at you with the same confused facial expression as to where this is going. It's understandable to see other people freaking out about the missing girls around campus and how police and detectives have _yet_ to find out who is the one behind all of them. But to see Roxy; a strong, confident woman so fidgety about being safe around campus is just weird and unnatural.

Everyone seems to be losing their damn mind being around here.

Aubrey takes the rope when replying to Roxy. "Uh, we were just out running. We...didn't expect to be out so late, but I guess we both just lost track of time." You nod your head while listening to Aubrey speak, defending her response because it was nothing but the truth. You do keep out the part involving a certain freshman that delayed your schedule to make it back home in time. Chances are Roxy would expect a full plot and background check if you were to mention that not only was Beca being suspicious out in the middle of a deserted forest but also, she carried a gun on her.

Oh what a show that would cause.

"I understand that you girls have a routine doing this at night," Roxy settles with, eyes starting to lighten and her body is becoming less tense. "But that was before there was a murderer, raper or…. _whatever_ he is out there taking innocent girls for his pleasure!" Her voice raises back up to a uncharacteristic volume and for once, you can catch a hint of fear laced in Roxy's words, which surprises you.

That's a terrifying thought; you already know this and know that being a female especially puts you more on the silver platter. Just to imagine you being in that position, facing the Barden's kidnapper in person and being nothing but hopeless. It's more than terrifying actually.

Roxy's eyes plummet to her lap where her hands are tangled around one another. "I already let one of my girls slip from my fingers to this guy. I can't lose you girls too," and like a knife jabbed straight through the heart, your breathing hitches when seeing Roxy so protective and vulnerable.

Silence fills the living room; you feel like a big pile a dog poo for keeping Roxy up so late, worried sick about where you guys were, and Aubrey you can tell by her flaccid body language and inability to look Roxy dead in the eyes that she probably feels the exact same way. You clear your throat to break that same silence, momentarily throwing away the feeling of possibly being the world's most selfish person alive.

"Sorry," you say, making eye contact, which is an all around dumb move because you can see that Roxy's eyes are misty from where the lamp's light is reflecting, giving off a glassy shimmer and again, for the second time tonight, you heart breaks at the sight. "Aubrey's right about losing track of time, we ended up stopping once we hit the forest-"

"Stay away from there," Roxy interrupts sternly and it takes you off guard by the quick demand. "Please...just," she stops, searching for the right words and you just sit, mouth open from being cut off mid sentence and waiting for what else Roxy is about to say. "Just stay away from there," Roxy mummers, finding no other words to catch the true meaning, but figuring this is enough to get her point across.

In general, the forest around Barden is pretty creepy, and that's just because of its physical appearance. The dead trees that never same to grow back with colorful leaves, the true deepness of how far the forest actually runs. There's never people just strolling along the dirt trails for fun; it's usually deserted and filled with only animals that can see you, but you can't see them. There's an eerie echo that comes along the deeper you fall in the forest and chances are, if gone deep enough, you'll end up getting lost.

And that's on a good day without there being a layer of thick fog blocking your sight where you can't see a foot in front of you.

So being aware of all this, you understand why there is invisible "do not enter" tape blocking the forest entrance, but never before was it taken to an extreme like it is now. Almost hitting a full month. That's all it took for a place to go from just creepy to basically being placed under quarantine.

In unison, Aubrey and you nod your heads and for the first time since you've walked through the door, Roxy throws you guys a small smile before sitting up from the love chair and making her way up the stairs and closing the door to her room.

"Wow," Aubrey whispers under her breath while the two of you stare at the empty staircase where Roxy once was. "That was intense."

You snort; the first time you actually came close to laughing in the past hour. Intense would be just an understatement after what you and Aubrey just went through.

"I'm going to bed," you announce, standing up on your feet. Feeling like your brain just endured a tornado of thoughts, along with emotions, you sigh out loud, ready to head upstairs and take a cooling off shower.

Aubrey follows in tow before bidding you goodbye, wishing you a good night sleep and turns in the opposite direction at the top of the stairs to go to her own room. Closing the door behind you, you fall flaccid on your bed, face first into one of your many pillows you have scattered on top.

This night has taken a toll on your body and you really don't know what to grasp from it. Roxy has reached total paranoia, along with the other residents of Barden. Beca has a secret; you're sure of it because there is no reason as to why she's be by herself in the forest during nighttime, epically carrying a gun on her. Whether it's a dark secret or not, you want to squeeze it out of her.

And also maybe ask for her number, take her out to dinner and maybe even become something more than people who are lucky enough to run into each other every once in awhile. That would be extremely nice and the total package, even only after just meeting the girl, but whatever.

Not the point.

But you also know that your chances with running into the freshman are very low, so that could put a dent in your plan real quick. Still though, you're destined to get behind the riddled mystery of Beca Mitchell if it's the last thing you do.

* * *

Morning comes around and you're comfortable, toasty warm submerged under all your blankets and peacefully sleeping like a baby when there are several bangs to your closed door that scares you half to death. You shoot up from being basically in a coma, hair knotted probably, eyes still squinty from sleep and you're sure there's a dry drool mark running from the corners of your mouth. The frantic bangs, however, make you care less about your appearance at the moment and you're rushing to the door in a hurry, hoping that whoever it is bothering you at such an early hour has a damn good reason for waking you up.

Opening the door, you're greeted by Jessica, who has always been one of your sisters to wake up early in the house, regardless of it being the weekend or a weekday, but instead of her usually cheery, bright face that she wears ninety nine point nine percent of the time out of the three years you've known her, you study the wave of pure panic that takes up every feature on her face.

"Roxy left!" Is all she says before shoving a piece of paper in your face to read and turns out, this is a pretty good reason to wake someone up this early on a Saturday morning.

Quietly observing that Jessica, as well, has some loose screws up top like everyone else, you take the note, smoothing out all the wrinkles and start to read the letter written from Roxy.

 _Girls,_

 _I'm sorry for such short notice, but my presence is no longer granted here at Barden anymore. There's a whole world out there for me to see, for me to experience, and I cannot do that while being stuck here at Barden with you guys. Don't worry, I've arranged a few house mothers in the running to take my place, they should be there sometime this week. I've already met with all of them and truly, you'd be lucky to have either one. Please, and I beg you with all my heart, don't contact me after reading this. It's for the best._

 _Love always,_

 _Roxy Anne_

 _What the Hell?_ Is your initial thought when reading this letter from a known house mother of three years who just last night was throwing you and Aubrey a heart to heart about your safety but now, is claiming to not wanting to be apart of you and your sisters' lives anymore. There's many things _peculiar_ about this random letter, especially the nicely handwritten cursive that made it almost impossible to read and something even your professors don't write with.

Was she born in the eighteen hundreds and wrote with a feathered pen?

The strangest thing though is to why all of a sudden? Why now and why not at graduation, or never?

Unable to truly believe this was happening, "ha ha, very funny Jessica," You laugh it off, handing the letter back to Jessica and set on this being some sick joke they're pulling on you. Ignoring Jessica's pleas to listen and that this isn't a joking matter, you march to the room where Roxy would stay in, destined to find your house mother laying on her bed, peacefully reading the morning newspaper and not half way across the country like she said she'd be. Unfortunately, that's not what you're shown with and instead, her room is cleaned out completely, empty and missing the one person you were hoping to find.

"What?" You're still at this point in shock, seeing the room as empty as it was when you first moved in and that there's even an echo to your voice with the absence of furniture and objects that took up most of the room. " _How_ ….why….I can't believe this," you stutter out, full on at a lost for words while you scan the empty room in disbelief. You even take the chance to close your eyes, hoping that when you reopen them everything, like a magic trick, will be placed right back to normal.

But that doesn't happen, and it's just as empty and Roxy-less as before.

"What should we do?" Jessica, being a big ball of emotional sensitivity is on the verge of tears and you don't even have to look at her to know this by the shake in her voice from behind where she stands like a shadow.

Snatching the note again, making sure that what you read is the actually thing, you mindlessly run to your room in search for your phone, dialing up Roxy's number, though the letter specifically told you _not_ to try and contact her. Stubborn as always, you call her anyways , hoping that she'd pick up to answer some much need questions you have flooding your head.

"What's going on?" Aubrey comes into your room not too long after the line starts to ring and without answering, you throw the letter over to Aubrey for her to read herself.

It's on the second ring where the line goes dead, and the call is disconnected with a click. Seeing that the call failed when you remove the device from your ear, you try again, redialing the same contact and this time, there isn't even a ring before the automated robot voice, along with a strange series of beeps tells you that, "they're sorry, but you have reached a number that has been disconnected or is no longer in service."

"She...left?" Aubrey reaches the end of the letter and you can tell by the scowl on her face she is more angry than worried, unlike Jessica, who is now crying at this point into her hands while she keeps her body up by the wall. "How dare she just…. _leave_!" Aubrey barks with betrayal, then slams the letter into the floor of your room while you try for the fifth time to call the number assigned to Roxy's contact name.

"She isn't answering guys," you rush out panicked, hoping that every time you redial the number you'd get lucky and hear Roxy's voice instead of the same damn message. But with no luck, you eventually stop trying to get a hold of her, doing so is just becoming pointless and a total waste of time.

Flabbergasted is a good word to resemble how you feel this very moment, maybe even baffled at the thought of Roxy, someone who would walk through fire and back for her sorority girls just decided, out of a spur moment, to pack up and leave everything behind. It's something not like her to do, which confuses you more than ever.

Aubrey is ranting about what a pathetic skip Roxy is for leaving right when things get a little crazy and figures now would be the perfect time to bolt, leaving everyone else behind. Jessica is still leaned up against the wall as her eyes continue to leak unstoppable streams of tears, basically morphing into a catatonic state of disbelief you notice by her blank stare at the other side of the nude walls. You don't know what to do-what to say to ease the situation before the rest of the house wakes up and finds out about their beloved house mother.

It's inevitable, really.

But what you do know is that nothing would make the situation less worse than what is actually is.

"Maybe this happened for a reason," you say, breaking Jessica out of her zombified stare at the wall and cutting Aubrey's rant short. They both give you equally astounded scowls that make you feel like a complete idiot for opening your mouth at all, but you continue. "Whether she left because of the kidnappings, or left because she was unhappy here, she still is gone and we can't do anything about it."

"Like Hell we can't," is what Aubrey is quick to respond with, pulling out her cell phone from her pajama pants and dialing God knows who. Probably someone who will tell the blonde the exact same thing.

You wait to here the conversation and as you connect the dots by only Aubrey's say in the conversation, you were more than right about them not being able to do anything about it.

Turns out, Roxy sent the same letter to the board and president of Barden, fluffing it up a bit more and gave them a list of all the house mothers she scouted out for a replacement. Not one to clear up their schedules for a "little girl issue" and help find a house mother of a sorority house, who no longer wants to be a house mother anymore, they decline anything Aubrey has to say since under their belts they have missing students to think about. Whoever Aubrey contacted is about as much help as you'd fine asking a potato.

But there's nothing they can do, especially if there are already other house mothers lined up for the position.

Without them, it would be a completely different case if that was the problem and the Bellas were left stranded without a mother because if so, their sorority would be threatened to be overruled. They'd have to shut the Bellas down, everything they have worked so hard for, everything that came with being a Bella, just to move back into the dorms and be "normal" students.

And though this is a load of horse shit because you really liked Roxy as a house mom ( _or so you thought_ ) you're grateful that the Bellas have alternatives to a shitty situation, so things aren't completely doomed.

Aubrey doesn't even say goodbye to whomever she is talking with before she ends the phone call and shoves the phone back into her pocket with so much rage you're surprised the device didn't shatter.

"Well?" you ask and wait, which is a bold move because Aubrey's already angry and asking this when you know the answer already is putting a large target on your back.

It takes a while but soon, Aubrey rolls her eyes, ready to explain the phone call to you and Jessica who has finally stopped crying. "Well, that was Barden's help line and I told them about the problem and pretty much, there's nothing they could do."

You keep the "I told you so" to yourself, not wanting to die at such a young age and patiently wait for what's coming next.

"I'm moving the rush to next week. By then, we would have met with all the other house mothers, picked one and things would be stable again. Chloe, please let the other girls know and tell them about... all this and…. the _other stuff,_ " Aubrey orders with a huff, her stressed out face forming and you hope no projectile vomit comes next.

"We are still having the rush?" Jessica asks, as if it's the stupidest thing Aubrey could ever say. "Are we just to go on with things and ignore everything that's happening? What about Roxy? What about the Bellas?"

"We can't just cancel the rush. Pledgees are already contacting me for applications and the hype about our rush is through the roof. Canceling would just cause a feud that I do not want to deal with," Aubrey explains gently because Jessica is at a fragile state and is extremely brittle with the information that Roxy is gone and never coming back.

"Plus, we will get another house mother. Will she be Roxy material? Absolutely not. But like I said, there's nothing we can do. It was her choice to leave and we all have to respect that," you chime in, adding the same gentle tone with your voice.

A new woman in the house can mean new adventures, new memories for the Bellas, even though they had a ton with Roxy. It would be different and take some time to get use to but eventually, things will flow back together. The situation as a whole sucks, and moving the rush to next week can cause some conflicts with other girls, but at least the they'll still have a party to show off the house, giving a taste of the Bella lifestyle and everything will soon go back to normal.

Or so you hope.

* * *

Telling the rest of the girls at a mandatory house conference brought you with a mouth full of questions you were unable to answer and a raging headache that you're positive will become permanent. Majority of their concerns revolved around the giant question mark as to why Roxy just left when just yesterday, nothing seemed to be bothering her and if you knew, which you totally don't, you'd be able to answer that question.

You for one are also extremely stumped on the real reason why Roxy decided that how was the best time to leave without talking to anyone first; it's more than a little strange if you're being honest. She seemed fine when you last talked to her, perfect even. You just wonder what it was that sent her running for the hills.

Anyways, despite all this drama floating around the house and fears of the Bellas being taken down, you finally calm your sisters down, reassuring them that everything regarding their house and the Bellas will be okay. Pledges will still tour the house; you'd still fill up the spots with newbie freshman, hold raging social events, throw killer parties, build their yearly Bella calendar and still have a great time throughout the school year. It wasn't easy, but after repeating yourself a _million_ times that everything would be okay, the girls started to believe it.

It's your senior year dammit. No way in Hell is this little bump in the road going to put a hold on your last kick ass year of college.

Enduring the world's worst headache after dealing with a house full of insane chicks, you take a relaxing walk by yourself around campus to get some fresh air this time at a reasonable hour. It's quite while you walk and it gives you the time alone to just think about everything that has happened, lay it all on the table for you to examine. Truth is though, you're just as confused as the next person with everything that's happening and would want nothing more than some answers to all your questions.

That would would be the cherry on top.

As you walk, hands stuffed in your jacket pockets, your mind wonders off of the Bellas and you find yourself thinking about a certain freshman again, randomly. It has only been roughly around ten hours since you last seen her out in the forest, not even a full twenty four hours yet still, she fills your head with endless thoughts and you can't for the life of you shake her off your mind.

And in all truthfulness, you have absolutely no idea why, nor do you really care because Beca is something else worth spend a thought or two thinking about.

Sure, the girl is very, _very_ attractive, probably the most good looking girl on campus. That's really a no brainer and anyone with a set of eyes could figure that out.

But when you add her car and rough personality to the mix, _Jesus_ , you think you'd jump off a bridge just to talk to this girl one last time.

And lucky for you, that in fact happens during your afternoon stroll throughout Barden and you catch her sitting in the grass by her lonesome, smoking a cigarette and staring off into the cloudless sky.

She's busy doing her own thing, oblivious that you're switching routes from the sidewalk to the grass, making your way over to where she is sitting without an invitation. The closer you get once your eyes have adjusted, you note a laptop placed next to her feet, and she's fiddling around with it, cigarette dangling lymph from her mouth.

For a moment, you just stop and stare, adoring how calm Beca looks, so mellow and relaxed in her natural habitat, away from people. She looks beautiful, you conclude, as if you didn't already know this.

And that's even including the _cancer_ stick she's inhaling into her perfect little body.

Strangely, you never knew smoking, though you hate it with a passion, could be such an attractive action that someone could do. She could probably pick her nose and you'd still think it was cute.

 _God_ , how pathetic do you sound right now?

But then again, it's Beca you're talking about, so it makes sense that that doesn't make sense….if that makes sense?

Oh well, irrelevant.

You eliminate the rest of the distance keeping you two apart and without a warning, the empty spot next to Beca is taken by you plopping right on down, making yourself comfortable as she throws you the nastiest scowl known to man.

You catch the light sound of classic rock playing from her laptop, _Poison_ , you can point out and really, you should've expected Beca to be fond of this type of genre. Now all she needs is a motorcycle and _bam_ , she warped herself straight from the rock culture of the seventies with drugs, sex and rock the n` roll.

"Whatcha doin'?" you ask all innocent and chipper and the size smile you have on your face is starting to hurt your cheeks. "Pointing your gun at any innocent bystanders lately?" The laugh you erupt with next, like you're the world's funniest Goddamn comedian, is really unnecessary and quite _obnoxious_ for anyone to experience it.

Apparently, Beca thinks this as well and even though you're telling yourself to stop laughing because you're making a complete fool out of yourself, hitting the tip of the iceberg with embarrassment, you can't seem to settle down.

After staring dumbly at you for a bit, discomfort glowing on her features, "what are _you_ doing?" Beca asks and the emphasis is kind of sharp coming out from her mouth, but you ignore her tone, for the most part, and toss her your signature, warm greeting smile that for once, doesn't have the same effect that it usually does on people.

"I didn't know you smoke," you say instead of answering Beca's previous question. It stinks over here, thanks to the nasty smelling cigarette and all the thick smoke that comes with it.

But being next to Beca is nice, and suddenly the smell of smoke is something you'd take over smelling nothing at all if it means hanging out with her.

Also, you can't help but be hypnotized by how hot Beca looks when smoking.

You mindlessly cross your legs over each other, keeping that same smile on your face the entire time while Beca just stares, blank and irritated, and you can't help but to stop and wonder if anything will be conversed during this time, or are you guys just going to have a full on _staring_ contest.

Beca seems to settle with your added presence as you make it obvious that moving anytime soon is just not going to happen. The cigarette caught in between her index and middle finger is brought up her mouth, and she inhales a large amount before letting the smoke slip out like a ghost from the slit where her mouth is just barely cracked opened.

"Only when I'm stressed," Beca replies nonchalantly and you're so deep in a trance watching this girl smoke that it should be frightening, but you can't seem to look away.

"What are you stressed about?" Your voice gives an embarrassing type of raspy sound after being so caught up in watching Beca, so you try to cover it up by clearing your throat and ripping your focus away from Beca's lips to look literally _anywhere_ but there.

And instead the kid who falls off his skateboard when he hits a crack in the sidewalk.

Silence immediately takes over besides the song "Smoke On Water" playing from the laptop; Beca doesn't answer your question and just continues to smoke her cigarette, ignoring all of life and your presence.

Figuring that Beca is not going to answer anytime soon, "Okay you don't have to tell me right now," you say reassuringly and curve an even wider smile, even though that wave of intimidation Beca radiates with hits you like a semi truck on the highway fogging up you head. "How about you tell me at dinner?" Like word vomit, the questions slips from your big, fat mouth before you could even stop it and Beca looks just as surprised as you do. This is _so_ not happening like you planned. Continuing bravely, "we could go somewhere near campus, I could show you around?"

You start to feel your face getting hot after the blunt question you just dropped like Hiroshima because Beca is just eyeing you with a single, perfectly sculpted eyebrow up to her hairline, making the whole situation more awkward than it should be and all of a sudden, you regret asking anything at all because you start to think about whether this girl swings both ways or not.

But you look at her appearance, even though you hate to judge a person by how they look, but you do it anyway, and could have assumed Beca has dipped her toes in the ladies pool every once in awhile.

She can't be _completely_ straight can she?

God, where is your gaydar when you need it?

Beca opens her mouth to speak, "you're fucking cute, Red."

Yep, definitely not all the way straight.

And wait, did she just call you _cute_? Oh man, this is all way too much for you to handle right now and you don't know whether it's from the complement, or the confirmation that Beca in fact swings both ways.

Maybe it's a mixture of both, but either way, it has you turning into a tingling with joy pile of goo as you wait for an answer to your fate invitation.

"But I don't do dates."

And you think your body has never deflated so fast before in your twenty two years of living at the rejection and you feel as if the wind got knock right out of you. Did this really just happen?

"Or relationships."

Yep, sure did. Go ahead, Beca. Keep kicking your heart while it's down because she seems to be _so_ good at it.

Baffled at the response and more than a little offended that you just got rejected by a freaking _freshman_ , "and why is that?" Though your pride is practically shot at this point and the perfect option sounds like crawling down into a hole and dying, you curve a smaller half smile, acting like a no to your invitation didn't shoot you straight through the heart and you're internally bleeding away.

Beca twists her lit cigarette into the ground before shoving the remaining half behind her ear, just under her loosely curled hair. There's a deathly smirk somewhere you end up catching while you follow the cigarette back up to lock eyes with hypnotizing steely blues.

"My life is too… _extreme_ for people. I don't think you would last long if I gave you a shot."

It should irritate- _boil_ your blood that Beca just said this to you but instead, it motivates you, like she just gave you a challenge left open for grabs.

And you, being naturally competitive and _loving_ a good chase for all the fun can't help but swoon at Beca's skit where she plays hard to get. Maybe it shouldn't be as attractive as it is right now, but in all truthfulness, you could really care less.

Beca sits up from the grass, closing her laptop while she stands and brushes off the strips of grass that happened to stick to her jeans. "You seem like a really nice girl who has a bright future and _blah blah blah_. Me? I wouldn't mix into that."

"How do you know without giving it a shot?" You retort back with and Beca doesn't say a single word, only blinking slowly, face stone cold and emotionless before removing her same pair of aviators from her jacket pocket and covering them over her eyes.

"Can I at least get your number?" You ask one last time before Beca makes the attempt to walk away, hoping this would be the one to check off the list.

"Don't have one," Is all she says before leaving you more frazzled than ever. First the lack of social media accounts and now the girl; a teenage girl who can afford a sports car can't even afford a damn cellphone. Where is the correlation in any of that?

"How will I find you then?!" you yell out in the distance where she is walking away, cupping your hands around your mouth to amplify your voice. Luckily, it's at a high enough volume to catch Beca's attention, despite the large and new amount of distance separating the two of you.

"I'll see you around!" she responds back with, walking backwards and you can see that intoxicating smirk as if it's right smack in front of you.

You wish that it didn't affect you as much as it does; if so it wouldn't feel like you just got punched in the gut with rejection.

Beca's gone in the matter of seconds, walking into the student parking lot, probably where her car is parked. You release a defeated sigh, picking up a leaf next to you when you bring your knees up to your chest and crumpling it between your fingers. As you sit bummed, wondering what it was that you did to put Beca off so much, you examine the grass next to you and catch a newly opened box of Marlboro cigarettes.

You think about running to catch up to Beca, hoping that she hasn't already left yet so you could give her her cigarettes that, you assume, fell out of her pocket without her knowing.

But then you think about having this new item in your hands; something of Beca's, it gives you the perfect loophole to go out searching for her again without it seeming like you're a total creep.

It's dumb; Beca probably can afford a new box of cigarettes, especially with the hunch that she has a lot of money when remembering what her car looks like, but you're pretty much hopeless after just getting shot down. Maybe with this, you'll _Cinderella_ this shit and flip the story, winning some alone time to hang out with Beca on a personal level and finding out every little thing there is to know about the girl.

Honestly, that sounds like a pretty good idea, so you stick the box in your pocket and stand up to resume your walk around campus, hopping the freshman doesn't overtake majority of your thoughts during.

But chances are she will, and you don't know if that's a good thing, or a bad thing.

And she _does_.

* * *

"Bree!" You shout from inside the blonde's room but just your luck, she isn't in there.

Aubrey doesn't have class until later tonight (joy on her part for already taking so many master's level courses) so honestly, you have no idea where she could possibly during a time where you have so much to tell her. Hearing the shower going off down the hallway and a retro, 80's playlist blaring against the walls, you now know exactly where she is.

When opening the door to the bathroom as steam from the hot shower clouds your senses, it causes Aubrey to stop mid lyric as she is belting the all time classic, "Wanna Dance With Somebody" and is peaking her head around the corner to see who it is. You give her a eager wave and she rolls her eyes before whipping her head back behind the curtains to resume whatever it was that she was doing, as if this is a normal thing the two of you do.

"I saw Beca again today," you slide in casually, closing the lid to the toilet seat and taking a seat on top.

" _Ew_ , I'm sorry," Aubrey retorts and scoffs in disgust at the mention of Beca. Technically, Aubrey has no reason (though she claims she does) to dislike Beca as much as she does.

Okay, maybe Beca is a little bit on the different side as far as the way she dresses compared to the _typical_ college student and sort of sticks out like a sore thumb.

But to make it out as a bigger deal than it actually is, like Aubrey is doing, that's so not cool.

And personally, the encounters you've had so far with Beca, this afternoon being marked number three, you can rightfully defend _with evidence_ that she isn't as bad as her black leather jacket makes her out to be.

Right off the bat, Beca's hard to read. She's closed off, yes. Moody? For sure. Intimidating? Um, _duh_. A rebel? No doubt about it. Sarcastic, _oh Hell yes!_

Also,she wears a permanent stink face majority of the time. But really and if you wanna be blunt right now, which you are about to do, everything about Beca is really stinkin' attractive, and like some _stupid,_ overplayed song on the radio, you just can't get her off your mind.

"She's so _hot_ , Bree," you swoon saying this out loud and you hang your head up by the counter where you arm is resting, body morphing into a big pile of mush at the glorious image of all that Beca Mitchell is.

"You can't be serious?" Aubrey ask with disbelief to such a thing. "Seriously? And to think I once said you have good taste," she mumbles this just barely loud enough over the water, but you catch it and decide to keep the offence to yourself instead of dwelling on it.

"It's scary, it's weird, it's unnatural for me, I know," you say, listing all these off because even from a first person view, this is all new to you, too.

Whether it's on purpose or not, Beca is able to push all your buttons the right way and everything in your life is starting to not make sense anymore.

"But I kinda asked her out today, kinda embarrassed myself while I was at it because when I asked her to dinner, it totes came out more direct than ever. It's like...when I talk to her, my brain stops working and suddenly, my tongue feels way too big for my own mouth," you gasp all this out in a single breath.

"Do you know how crazy you sound right now?" Aubrey asks in all seriousness and _of course_ you know how crazy all this seems.

And maybe it might just be the thick blanket of steam making you completely delusional, but something you know for sure is that Beca is interesting.

You take one look at her and it's like a thousand questions form. She's a rebel with an edge; a girl that your parents would be skeptical about and that is something that excites you the most.

"I asked her on a date and she said no." Your body sags at the memory, feeling more humiliated than you have ever felt before. It's not often someone says no to you and it's even more rare that you're the one doing the asking out. So, taking a chance and getting rejected stung more than a little bit.

"Okay, now I definitely know there's something up about that freshman. Who in their right mind passes up a date with you? Though I don't fully approve, mostly because I don't trust that midget," Aubrey says with a hint of protectiveness; her best friend instinct making an appearance while she reaches into her shower caddy and grabs her loofah.

You snort, "alright _yes_ , the whole carrying a gun thing is a little…. _strange_ , but other than that, she's not too bad."

"Definitely not," Aubrey shoots you down. "There's something about that freshman, Chlo. I feel it when I'm around her."

You roll your eyes hearing this because really, Aubrey has only been around her twice; both of those times being very brief and she she was around Beca, all she did was bad mouth her. That does not give her the okay to judge Beca like she is.

"There's a weird aroma I get."

You agree on the weird aroma thing, though yours floats more towards attraction rather than suspicion.

"Whatever you do just please be careful," Aubrey warns as she turns the water off in the shower and pulls down the towel hanging up. "I don't have bail money if you get arrested."

"Do you think she's ever been arrested?" You ask while your mind sparks up at the image of Beca being thrown into the back of a police car, handcuffed and all. "Or has ever been in a fight? How bad and….. _sexy_ would that be? "

Aubrey slides the curtain to the left, her toweled body tucked under her arms now in your line of sight pass all the steam and she has the most unamused expression on her face that it makes you cackle with a laugh.

"Unless you want me to vomit, I'm done talking about the midget," Aubrey declares, stepping out of the shower and wiping the fog from the glass mirror away with her hand. You stand from the toilet seat and watch Aubrey comb through her wet hair. "Also, I've been in contact with the dean and he said that interviews for house mothers will be done on Wednesday."

You groan quietly to yourself after listening to Aubrey explain when and where they're meeting the new house mothers and why it's important for both head sisters to be there. Lately you have just been unmotivated and sleep as your main priority.

However, you can't help but be excited that a new house mom is in the running. God knows how long you and Aubrey can put up with rearranging meal plans, events and financial bills before something ends up going terribly wrong.

* * *

Minus all the stuff about Roxy leaving and your sorority's rush having to be pushed back to Friday, you're having a damn lucky week.

And that's because as you exit your Russian Lit class, brain dead, exhausted and just ready for some dinner, you, for the _fourth_ time now, are blessed enough to run into Beca.

You pat the inside of your purse, scavenging for a box of cigarettes that you ended up picking up and sigh relieved that you happened to have them on you.

Moving your feet in the general direction to where Beca is at, but not wanting to be rude and interrupt, you stop short behind a corner to wait until she was finished with her conversation. During this time, you admire her appearance from the distance, still as affected as you were the first, second, third and now fourth time seeing the freshman.

She's wearing a backpack this time, but still dressed like she just attended a funeral of Ozzy Osbourne, but nonetheless still hot as ever and also, she's talking to a professor, Dr. Mitchell, head of the English department and you remember slightly taking one of his classes a while back. You then wonder if Beca happens to be taking the same one you took.

The conversation isn't one you'd normal see with a student a teacher; Beca is pissed by the way her arms are flailing and definite red color in the face. Dr. Mitchell, as well, is far from being calm as one hand grips at his hip and the other is squeezing the top of his forehead while Beca talks, putting a lot of force behind her words. It seems to only get louder once the hallways start to clear out and Beca thinks that she and Dr. Mitchell are alone, not realizing that you're so totally eavesdropping behind a nearby corner.

Peaking your head out, you catch some of the conversation.

"This is ridiculous, Rebeca! All that shit your mother washed into your brain?! You're actually believing it?!" Dr. Mitchell practically yells this at Beca, spit flying from his mouth at each syllable and you flinch that a professor has the audacity to talk to a student like this.

Wait.

Mitchell.

Beca Mitchell

Dr. **Mitchell**?

Your eyes stretch wide as the dots begin to connect. _Holy crap, that's Beca's dad!_

"Like you fucking care, dad!" Beca barks back and without knowing answers your question for you, just in case you didn't already figure it out that Beca's dad teaches at Barden. "You left us! So as far as I'm concerned, you have no right to say what I can and cannot believe in!"

Dr. Mitchell no longer can stand still and he starts to pace back and forth, shaking his head distraught. "It isn't safe, Beca, all this that you're trying to do. You think you can just come down here and expect to get all the answers? Why can't you just move on? Live a life that your mother neglected you out of having."

Beca's body freezes, jaw falling to the floor with a squint to her eyes and you don't even have to know her on a personal level to infer what her dad just said was the _wrong_ thing to say. You don't know whether to be scared for his safety by the look of pure anger on Beca's face, with her veins popping out, or worried that Beca is seconds away from exploding.

"Mom _died,_ dad! Does that mean anything to you? Anything at all?"

"Of course it does, Becs, I loved her-"

"You have a real _hilarious_ way of showing it," Beca cuts off in a lower tone, but the words were still cold and even you felt the harshness behind them from the distance.

Maybe this isn't a good idea, listening in on this meant to be private conversation. Beca just dropped a pretty big bomb about her mother that she may or may not want you to know (though you're positive she's more gravitating towards the not wanting you to know). Beca also, you can guess, doesn't have the best relationship with her father, and it's pretty obvious by the amount of screaming they're throwing at each other.

Dr. Mitchell takes the hit from Beca, his body deflating and eyes falling to the floor to break his intense glare with his daughter. "I just...I don't want to see you get hurt."

What comes next from Beca is surprising, as you were not expecting her to bark out a laugh, as if her dad just said the funniest thing in the world, head rolling back while her dad just stares, just as taken back by the action as you are. This goes on for a few seconds before she sobers. "It's a little too late to all of a sudden be caring about my safety."

And then she walks away from her dad towards the double doors, not even once looking back to see him physically shatter apart. He goes inside the classroom once Beca is out of sight and you're pretty much stunned with what your ears just heard and eyes just saw unfold.

What on earth was Dr. Mitchell talking about when he said he didn't want to see Beca get hurt? What possibly could hurt her on campus, other than being abducted by Barden's kidnapper? Everything wasn't making sense, much like a lot happening in your life. This time though you're destined to figure it out. So, you hike your purse over your shoulder and march your way outside, following Beca's footsteps to get behind whatever it was going on and involving her.

* * *

 **Again, things pick up next chap... Stay tuned my lovelies!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry it took a little longer to update this bad boy! Decided to split this chapter up in two parts, which you guys will enjoy since there's a lot more written than initially intended ;) Good news also, next chapter is ALREADY written, so I'll post it sometime tomorrow! Yes, you'll find out what's going on around Barden. Maybe not this chapter but definitely next!**

 **Some more few dropped hints are also mentioned A LOT in this chap, so I bet it will have the bolts in your head twistin' a bit!**

 **Without further a do, Enjoy!**

 **(I DO NOT OWN PITCH PERFECT)**

* * *

 **Chapter Three: House Mothers From Hell**

"Beca, come on!" You hear Dr. Mitchell call out, pleading for Beca to stay, but she's already long gone out the doors to even hear. He slumps his entire body, defeated, and it kind of breaks your heart seeing a past professor torn up, though you don't have all the pieces to the puzzle to put two and two together.

You wait a little bit, making it seem like you weren't just listening in on their private conversation trying to stalk his daughter to get some juicy info out of her and instead, just strolling through the hallways, casually, like a normal, innocent and definitely _not_ nosey college student.

When you decide to poke out from the corner where you played spy the whole time, you walk in the general direction where Dr. Mitchell is standing, head down, rubbing his temples full of frustration and overall looks like Beca just beat the crap out of him emotionally.

Your footsteps against the school's tile signal your arrival once you're close enough and he lifts his head from the ground where he was paralyzed staring at. As a quick cover up, he curves a fake half smile with a generous nod to you before moving back into his classroom and closing the door. Returning the greeting with your usual dashing smile, innocent and all, you head through the same doors as Beca, hoping to catch her before she completely storms off.

By the time you make it outside and dart towards the student parking lot, the chances of finding Beca before she leaves are slim to none. You scan the entire perimeter for Beca; the rebel that keeps sneaking away from your fingertips once you get pass the general and vague conversation the girl shields herself with. In reality, you just want more alone time with the freshman, more time to just get to know _her_.

The main story that's behind all the black clothes and leather, insane overuse of heavy make up, a muscle car your dad would give his right arm just to have a test drive and now apparently, what she could possibly be doing at Barden that's risking her life.

Yeah, maybe that's something to be a little suspicious of, especially when Beca is a freshman and the most of her problems should be packing on that freshman fifteen, not getting _hurt_.

Rumors are fun and all for a little while, especially Aubrey's set idea that Beca is a drug dealer, but eventually the same old talk going around Barden-even with the few short weeks into the first month-that there's something extremely off putting about the new freshman girl. You just want to get behind the mystery and solve the damn thing already.

But so far, the main suspect you're looking for is nowhere in sight.

As you're losing hope that Beca is long gone somewhere unknown, _again_ , you catch a whiff of a strong smokey scent, and familiar black mustang in the distance with the same girl you've been searching for propped up on the top of its hood, back against the windshield and smoking another cigarette without a care to the world.

Relived as an understatement, feet move on autopilot across the parking lot until you're at an arm's reach of the freshman and you're rocking back and forth from the heels to the balls of your feet, books wrapped up snugly in your arms as you wait for your arrival to become noticed.

It never does, unfortunately, as you catch a white cord ranging from Beca's pocket all the way up to her ears that are hidden beneath her silky chocolate hair and she has her eyes shut under her glasses from a glimpse. Figuring that any outside noise is mute to Beca, you reach out your hand to brush the freshman's shoulder to get her attention, but what you're **not** expecting is your wrist to basically get twisted off your forearm and an unfolded, scary sharp pocket knife to be pointed directly centimeters away from your face.

"Oh my God!" You gasp while stepping away from Beca's car and take in the petrified look that just washed over Beca's face when seconds ago she was relaxed, calm and in her own little world.

And now you are worried that you have a dislocated wrist.

At this point, you don't know who is more scared, but for one you can say that your precious life just flashed right before your eyes. "I'm so…. _I'm so sorry!_ " You start to stutter because the knife is still pointed at you and Beca seems truly surprised, or terrified and _oh my God,_ _why is there a knife pointed at me right now on school property?!_

Beca's body softens, as well as her facial expression and she's retracting the pocket knife back into her jeans before resettling back into her previous position on top of her hood, acting like nothing just happened.

And pulling a knife out on someone is a _normal_ thing to do.

"Sneaking up on people like that will get you hurt, Red," she says calm and contented while you stand frozen like a statue with your knees trembling in fear.

You don't answer right away because your brain is still trying to process the fact that not only does Beca carry a gun on her, but she also carries a _decent_ size pocket knife like a case of mints. Once your heart rate falls back to normal and your life doesn't feel threatened anymore, you start to speak.

"I just wanted to say hi," you say, slowly moving your feet closer to Beca's car, but keeping a cautious stance because who knows what this girl can whip out on you next in her pocket full of deadly weapons.

A missile maybe?

If you're really lucky, maybe even a grenade.

"And to also give you these." You reach into your purse and grab Beca's opened pack of cigarettes, handing them over with only faint tremble in your hand.

Taking the cigarettes after eyeing them for a moment and shoving them into her jacket pocket, "You stalking me now?" Beca's response is snarky and there's a dirty smirk on her face now and you can't help but to relax under it. "Seems like I just can't get away from you."

You try to not focus on the mention of Beca trying to avoid you because just thinking about it stings quite a bit. There's a smile on her face though, or smirk, and that can't possibly mean she's being serious about trying to get away from you.

Or could it?

"I was expecting a ' _thank you, Chloe, you're so nice'."_ You feel better about being next to Beca and that changes your whole attitude on your response back. "Maybe it's fate," you say, shrugging your shoulders just in time before Beca can turn her head away, moving the cigarette up to her lips and inhaling. "You know, since you won't have dinner with me."

You don't dwell at the "warm" welcoming at the pocket knife that was just flashed at your face you just encountered moments ago, not wanting to scare Beca off just yet. So, changing the subject is your only option, keeping it on a playful note is even better.

"You still hung over dinner?" Beca arches a brow impressed, clearly fascinated that you're still interested in hanging out with the girl. It's actually surprising seeing her so impressed by something that comes so natural to you, like it doesn't come that often, which you don't understand.

You nod your head with a smile at first, but then you morph it into a sad pout, jutting your bottom lip and earning a very satisfying chuckle from Beca. Shaking her head, she scoots her body over on the hood of her car, keeping the air between you two silent, but obviously insinuating something more with the move.

You stare at the new space on the hood, questioning what your next move should be.

Like do you join Beca?

Does she want you to leave?

Was she just getting into a more comfortable position?

Sensing your hesitation on what to do, Beca slides down the aviators on her eyes to the tip of her nose, patting the newly empty space next to her. "Come on." She gestures with her head next, along with that permanent (you're 110% sure of) smirk on her face. "It's not dinner like you wanted, but sure as Hell is all you're gonna get."

With that, you take the invitation faster than you have ever made a decision in your life, dropping your bag next to the front tire and sliding up on top of the car's hood, joining Beca and getting as comfortable as you can get while laying on a giant piece of metal. Like you've just been invited to sit with the president at dinner, you try to wipe the ridiculously large grin off your face before Beca has the chance to look at you, knowing she'd have more than a mouthful to say if she saw your manic smile that's brighter than the sun.

"So, Red. Tell me about yourself," Beca casually drops, inhaling some more smoke into her body.

You take a deep breath, holding in the swoon that's threatening to come out at the fact that Beca _actually_ wants to get to know you, hopefully on a personal level, but you don't want to jump the guns just yet. However, it's not like you asked for the icebreaker; _she_ did, and that's enough to make your heart race at the possibility of your encounters around school becoming more than just strangers.

"I'm a senior here at Barden, moved here from Tampa Florida," you start off with the usual basics of getting to know someone. "I'm majoring in Music, minoring in English and is head sister at Beta Theta Pi." Your hand moves to your neck, untucking the silver chain from your hoodie and flashing Beca with the giant cursive "B" that twinkles when the sunlight hits the little studded diamonds surrounding the letter.

Beca's line of sight falls to your neck where the necklace is out for show, flicking off the ashes away from her hood and takes another inhale of her cigarette. "Babe paradise?" she asks as all the smoke fills her lungs and she blows it out in a thick cloud. "The...Bellas or some shit."

You instantly light up that Beca knows the name of your sorority and retucks the mandatory necklace to be worn for any sister attending back into your hoodie. "Yeah! Been an active member for three year now, going on four!"

Beca nods her head, listening, and offers you some of her cigarette but you, knowing what a stick like that does to your body, especially your voice ( _God, Aubrey would kill me_ ) and can barely tolerate the smell, let alone inhaling it, respectfully decline the offer.

Taking another inhale; this time you find your eyes following the stick again, unable to tear your eyes away from how intoxicating one person can look while doing something this small. The way her neck muscles move in sync with her chest rising to a fall, right before she blows all the smoke out so delicately. It's such a dirty habit to have and you don't fully agree with her choices to smoke when taking in what a beautiful body she has, but something is there that makes it okay.

And that is simply because it's really _fucking_ hot.

Using all the strength in your body to look away from her lips and cigarette, you refocus back to Beca in time to catch that wry smirk of her's, catching you red handed. Choosing to say something before Beca comments on your mini daze you just fell into, a small memory of Beca mentioning that she only smokes when she's stressed and not too long ago, you walked up into a very heated conversation with her and her father.

"Stressed?" You ask, not wanting to come out and say you overheard the conversation between her and her dad, just in case it would tick her off the wrong way.

Not even with knowing the freshman for long, but already you can gather she is a walking, talking grenade and anything, literally _anything_ could make her explode at any second.

That's something you do _not_ want.

There's a pregnant pause of silence that washes over you two before she speaks up."Something like that," Beca answers, body deflating and her eyes lower to her outstretched legs on top of her hood.

This is a whole new side of Beca you're experiencing up close and personal, though it's not much different from her daily, grumpy look she has mastered to perfection. This one, however, unmasks her vulnerable side, pouring out some unsaid emotions that she tries to cover up by an eyeroll or a breathy scoff. Finally, you know this girl _does_ actually feel things and isn't as supernatural as she thinks she is.

You take the hint that Beca isn't really up for having a heart to heart session with a complete stranger, so you try to think of something to at least take her mind off of that certain thing. Like a lightbulb, an idea pops up all of a sudden in your head.

"You should totes pledge!" you exclaim, clapping your hands excitedly for extra enthusiasm

"Excuse me?" Beca seriously asks as if you just slapped the girl across the face.

"I said you should pledge!" you repeat, smile only growing each time you mention the fabulous idea that just spurted about.

Maybe Beca has a _different_ image compared to the usual Bella getup and Aubrey already had a fit with her alternative wardrobe, so you can only imagine the aneurysm she'd have if Beca was a Bella.

But the Bellas do not discriminate, especially when you're head sister and can control who and who cannot be a Bella. Wearing that crown gives you all the power revolving around the sisters and _dammit_ you'll use that power if ever faced with a possible romantic interest.

Beca is absolutely _jaw dropping_ and even that doesn't quite sum her up all the way. With her perfectly long brown hair that looks undeniably soft; her perfect freaking face that is so perfect it honestly doesn't make sense to you and that _Goddamn_ smile of her's that could cure world hunger if possible.

"I think the Bellas need a little _spice_ at the house!"

Yes, Beca would be a lot different than the usual pledgees, not that you're opposed to it because that'd be a total lie. Different is fun, unlike being normal, which is so totally boring and having someone like Beca as a sister would spice things up a bit in the Bellas' house, with her edge and darkness she brings to the table.

"You should pledge Beta," you insist, hoping your dazzling smile would win her over, but by the looks of Beca's facial expression, she doesn't look like she's buying it.

"Yeah, no thanks." Beca snorts a laugh, cigarette caught in her mouth as she relights the end with one of those zippo lighters.

You melt watching such a smooth motion, and suddenly the cigarette isn't the only thing on fire you note.

"Why not?" You think you ask this question; half of you is too busy being controlled under Beca's sexiness to even think straight right now, let alone _breathe_ , so it could all just be your imagination.

The glasses that Beca is wearing gets tucked into the v-neck part of her black tee. Steely blue eyes narrow at you once the shades aren't hiding the true dark color anymore. "It's not really my scene." Eyebrows raise at this; the excuse not really winning you over. "And is actually kinda lame."

A challenging look is thrown next at Beca, suddenly the girl is no longer as sexy as she was seconds ago, but still pretty sexy. " _Lame_?" you echo, asking for clarification and Beca only nods her head, defending her previous answer, which lights a fire inside you when your defensive side comes out. "The Bellas are _not_ lame. The Bellas are a sisterhood that will stick with you forever and then some!" You throw your hands up in frustration. Some people just don't get what it means to be in a sorority, especially the Bellas because what you hold there and have been a part of for a while now is something to cherish with those girls.

So harsh jabs to your sisters, no matter who says it brings out your defensive side.

"We participate in many events around school, host tons of parties... _illegally..._ also, because it's like against the law for a sorority to host parties," you whisper this last part, hovering your hand above your mouth for extra camouflage, just in case someone was eavesdropping.

"Whoa!" Beca stops you before you can continue to rant. "Sororities can't throw parties? What kind of sexest bull shit is that?"

"No we can't, but we do it anyway. Only frats are allowed to throw parties and though our's aren't as big as theirs, we still enjoy them…" you trail off, missing the whole point of the conversation in the first place, which was because Beca called the Bellas lame. So, you bounce back to your original point you were trying to prove. "Anyways, we do tons of fundraisers, volunteer work and are a great time. Plain and simple. Now does that sound lame to you, Mitchell?" You snap kind of harshly and are about to apologize, but Beca is raising her eyebrows up to her hairline impressed and you don't really know why.

Was the irritation shown in your voice because of Beca's kindergarten insult to your Bellas, or was it because you _really_ want her to join because of certain…. _reasons_ , and her saying it's not her "scene" is a clear no.

That's a question left unanswered as you have completely no idea. But what you do know is that Beca obviously being "too cool" to join _thee_ hottest sorority on campus, better yet country is "pretty lame" if someone were to ask you.

That's your opinion, though.

Beca's eyes stretch at your little outburst, giving you the proper time to cool off from your personality switch. "Damn," she breathes, impressed while you continue to cool down and start to think that it was possible you blacked out for a second. "I really like this feisty side of you," you hear this loud and clear, along with her crooked smile tossed your way and once again, you've fallen deep under its charm. "It's fucking hot."

Mouth moving without any warning whatsoever, "you're _**so**_ hot," and you slap a hand over your mouth so fast but by then, Beca is chuckling out an amused laugh at your unintentional compliment as your mouth just word vomited all over the place.

Without warning, you should add.

Should you jump in front of the next incoming car now or later?

Why is Beca able to make you act like you have no filter in your entire body? You've talked to hot people before; both girls and guys and never have you felt like such a clam under their attractiveness.

But with Beca, it's different.

So different it's actually scary.

You feel Beca's body shake with laughter and then she starts to wheeze on some left over smoke from her cigarette, you think, which causes her to start coughing while still laughing at the same time and you can't help but to laugh as well, unable to get pass how contagious Beca's laugh is.

Settling from her laughter and luckily not looking the slightest bit uncomfortable and weirded out by your out burst, Beca says, "you aren't too bad yourself, Red." And that makes you less embarrassed about your little fit and inflates your ego back to normal. "Thanks for that laugh; I needed it."

You sober pretty quickly at her change in tone by her voice and admit the one thing you've been putting off since you got here. "I saw your...conversation with Dr. Mitchell." You flinch because who knows what Beca will blow with now that her private conversation with her dad was heard by someone else, but surprisingly she doesn't even seem to be affected by it as she continues to inhale and exhale her cigarette until it's finished.

Flicking away the bud, Beca stuffs her hands into her jacket pockets, not daring to make eye contact with you even though your eyes haven't left her face since the moment you saw her across the parking lot.

She informs you that Dr. Mitchell is her dad, but you already put two and two together and don't really want to chance anything right now because for the first time, Beca is opening up.

"It's frustrating that he can pick and choose when and when not to be a father figure," she huffs and her eyes roll so hard you could've sworn they'd stay that way.

"What happened to your mother?" You spit out with another unprocessed thought of your's and this time, the damage this question does to Beca is clear as day in her body language and there is no sign of any laughter that comes with this outburst.

You aren't too sure why you automatically resorted to this question so soon into the conversation. Perhaps you got greedy that you were having an actual conversation with Beca; a conversation that you have been craving since the first day you met her and trying to pry out as much as you could because who knows when the next time would be was set inside your head.

What you are positive about is that you just hit Beca with a question that she would even be ify on with someone she knew on a friendship level, let alone an acquaintance, which is a category that you fall under.

"I uh." Clearing her throat and sliding back on her aviators while jumping off the hood, "I should probably go."

You follow Beca off the car, disappointed that this talk was over but not able to point a finger at anybody else but yourself as to why she is leaving. She hops into her car, turning on the engine that still roars like a beast and rolls the window down.

"I'll catch you around."

And she speeds off out of the parking lot, leaving you behind to kick some gravel around with your foot annoyed while at the same time repeating what a complete dumbass you were for bringing up such a touchy topic.

 _Stupid, Beale._

 _God, I'm so utterly stupid._

 _Stupid, stupid, stupid!_

* * *

A long and much needed nap is on your to do list as you drag your body up the porch stairs to the Bella's house after spending some of the afternoon with Beca before opening your big fat mouth and ruining the highly enjoyable and basically _begged_ for alone time with the girl. You can't help but be irritated at yourself for letting curiosity get the best of you, especially being so fixated on something in Beca's life that is so private.

 _JESUS_ , the two of you aren't even considered friends at the moment, probably not even considered acquaintances at this point, now that you've tried to bulldoze your way into her life when she is probably closed off and distant with everyone for a reason; a reason you just can't seem to get by without cracking.

 _Ugh_ , sometimes you really hate how pushy you are when it comes to other people.

You sag your lifeless, usually bright and glowy body into the house and your jaw near hit the floor with the sight you're greeted with once entering. Sitting on the couch as usual during this time in the afternoon is Aubrey, soft music playing in the background and a stack of binders sitting in front of her on the coffee table as she studies her life away with Physics and anything else that is destined to fry a person's brain.

This time, however, she isn't alone.

Sitting to her left, also an incredibly close distance on the couch to your for being someone who you can't even put a name with is what you think a real life super model that you would meet in Hollywood looks like.

She has long dark hair that falls majestically a little pass her shoulders, a killer smile that makes yours look like child's play, slitted eyes that hold so much confidence and sexiness, you think, that it's intimidating to look at and judging by the way her legs are bent up on the couch, mirroring in length of her entire torso and then some, the girl is a _giant_.

"Chloe, you're back!" Aubrey greets no doubtedly the cheeriest you have ever heard something leave her mouth.

Stunned at the unusual perk in your friend's voice, you drop your things by the door and gravitate closer to Aubrey and this unknown…. _goddess_ of a woman.

"I have someone for you to meet. Stacie, this is Chloe, other head sister here at the Bellas'."

Stacie, you gathered, is up from her position on the couch, standing to her feet and _holy shit_ this girl is a lot taller than you could've possibly ever imagined. Already holding out her hand with her dazzling smile never once fading, you eye her suspiciously.

"Nice to meet you," Stacie greets friendly.

You form a similar smile once you're not too much in shock anymore at this girl's beauty and raise your hand up to shake hers.

"Stacie's planning on pledging," Aubrey adds while you and Stacie engage in your little hand shake.

This doesn't really clarify as to why, _so to sa_ y, Stacie is here at the house already before the planned rush for freshman that is happening on Friday, five days from now. It only really answers who she is, which you're not all around opposed to meeting Bella wannabes.

Stacie definitely looks like sorority material, maybe even Christmas time worthy for the month of December when the Bellas sell their annual calendars; a month that _all_ the sisters want to have.

Stacie also has this effect on your best friend by the over gushing smile Aubrey is wearing and how this is the happiest you have ever seen her in a _long_ time. You never thought the day would come where Aubrey would be wearing the cheesiest freaking grin on the planet, unless it was her coming home from just passing an exam, or something school related.

"Oh _gross_ ," Aubrey scrunches her face up in disgust after your interaction with Stacie and all three of you are sitting back on the couch. "You smell like cigarette smoke….are you smoking now?!" Aubrey's tone heightens from zero to a hundred real fast by her concern and all you can do is protect yourself from sharp jabs of disappointment hitting you every syllable.

"No no!" You reassure as if you were talking to your mother, ready to prepare a line of excuses to get by. "I was hanging out with Beca this afternoon and she….well…. _smokesandstuff_ ," you rush to mumble that last part quick so Aubrey doesn't hear you, not wanting your friend to have another reason to add on top of many others as to why she dislikes the freshman so much.

"Beca Mitchell?" Luckily for you, Stacie takes the wheel in responding, body lightening up at the name and you smile at the chance of Stacie knowing Beca as well. "She's my roommate," she explains and you purposely ignore the muttered "I'm sorry" from Aubrey as you're way too focused on the fact that this new Stacie girl and Beca, a girl who you can not stop thinking about since the first moment you guys met shares a dorm room.

"Oh really?" You keep your voice nonchalant about the reveal, not wanting to make a big fuss out of it towards someone who can tell you some more juicy stuff about the freshman. Like her favorite coffee, or her favorite food to eat for dinner, or if she was dating anyone.

 _Wait….what?_

Stacie nods her head up and down. "Yeah! She's a…. _different_ one," she chuckles, not finding a proper word to sum up Beca as a whole.

Different doesn't even come in as a runner up when describing how _weirdly_ amazing Beca is in her own moody way. She's grumpy, but it's cute. She's sarcastic, but it's funny. She's-

"Pretty fucking hot too," Stacie reels you out of your thoughts, informing you on two things, those being 1). she is very _colorful_ with her words and is the type of girl who calls any other girl hot, or could possibly swing for both teams, and 2). just casually dropped her attraction towards the _same_ person you as well also feel a volcano of emotions for and that's something that just doesn't sit with you.

Did you mention that Beca is also _**off limits**_?

"You gotta be joking!" Aubrey doesn't even hide her jealousy by her sudden outburst that has both you and Stacie giving her the puzzled, " _what the Hell?_ " glance. There's something more to Aubrey and Stacie, maybe even a crush your best friend has, but you let it slide for now as more important things as to be discussed. "Please don't tell me you're smitten by her too? The girl looks like she slays vampires on her free time."

"That honestly wouldn't surprise me since she's gone throughout most the night anyways, doing God knows what. Add her weird looking occult books she has scattered along her desk and maybe it's true about the vampire thing." Stacie rolls her eyes, scanning her nail beds and crossing one of her _bionically_ long legs over the other.

You allow your own personal and territorial jealousy subside for now at the mention of Beca being MIA during the night, plus the mention of occult was not something you hear often. Why in the world was Beca studying _that_?

"She doesn't stay in the room at night?" you ask tentatively.

"Nope," Stacie says, popping the "p" and you and Aubrey share a confused stare. "I mean, she does _eventually_ come back, but it's still weird. Like come on, if she were dating someone, you'd think she'd spend the night over there rather than coming home early in the morning around two."

More jealously bubbles inside your gut at the thought of Beca dating someone, also the image of her spending the night with whomever it may be. You clench your teeth, unable to shake this thought, even with thinking about a load of other options as to why she stays out so late at night.

But your jealousy outweighs everything else, and at this point, you would've rather just left the conversation at bay with Stacie calling Beca hot rather than to think of the freshman dating someone else who _isn't_ you.

 _God, now does that sound creepy._

"Did you know that she carries a gun on her?" Aubrey asks out of nowhere, appalled, and you skip the part where you add that Beca also carries a pocket knife on her, knowing that would start a one person rampage from your best friend.

"Oh for sure," Stacie answers, not by the slightest disturbed by it. "She also carries one in her glove box, which was shocking at the time. But she said it was her dad's and he told her to keep it in there for protection. What a show that would be if she got pulled over, huh?" Stacie chuckles while you and Aubrey share the same hidden rage, but your's is way different than her's.

Is Stacie trying to tell you right now that she has driven in Beca's insanely impressive car? Why was this something to make you so uncharastically jealous? You have no right to be, and driving in someone's car is innocent, unlike how your brain is making it out to be.

Also, that gun is so not her father's, basing off their relationship you saw in the hallway. At least it makes you feel better that Beca isn't only lying to you about these things and she actually does it to everyone.

"What is up with her?" Aubrey asks in all seriousness. "Girl is seriously bizarre, and I'm not just saying that because she wears _way_ too much makeup around her eyes and dresses like the lead singer in a heavy metal band."

Stacie chuckles and you for your part don't think it's that funny. Beca's look is all around **super** attractive.

"You're asking the wrong person."

 _Yeah right. Seems like you're pretty comfortable with Beca already,_ you think, keeping this to yourself rather than lashing your jealously on Stacie who truly seems like a down to earth girl.

"Beca keeps to herself. _Jesus_ , it took me falling to my knees and begging for at least her first name to get it out of her. All I know is whatever she is doing, she wants it to stay a secret."

"Drugs," Aubrey mutters, as if that's the final and only conclusion to Beca's behavior. "I bet you anything it's drugs." Stacie snickers at the possibility, but her eyes grow wide at how Aubrey is so settled and isn't joking around.

You ignore anything else said between Stacie and Aubrey as they switch from talking about Beca to talking about school and all that boring stuff.

Apparently, Stacie is enrolled in all the hard science classes that Aubrey took last year, which is insane because Stacie is only a freshman who is taking four hundred level classes. It would be something worth another conversation, but all that gets drowned out by the fact that nobody seems to know who this Beca girl actually is.

Obviously, the girl isn't like normal college freshman Barden is welcomed greeted with but that's not the only question there is to answer, which at this point seems impossible as breaking through to Beca is like solving a rubik's cube while also being colorblind.

Again, the mystery behind Beca is unknown and you don't know what it's going to take to get behind it.

* * *

The next day after classes, you and Aubrey are back on campus, handing out flyers to girls that informs them of the Bellas' new rush date and reason behind it. Emails were also sent all around as well; you were able to post it on Barden's homepage just in case girls still thought the rush would be last Friday instead of a week from then.

But Roxy had to up and leave and ruin all your plans for the new year as Bella.

Jerk.

Even though there was nothing you could really do about Roxy leaving, especially with her want to not be in contact with any of the sisters, bouncing back from her lost would take some time and you knew the girls wouldn't be up for having a party without a house mom. All it took was a few theraphy nights during the weekend while you all stuffed ice cream in each other's faces and the introduction to heavy class work before everyone was falling back into their normal, _not affected by Roxy_ behaviors.

You and Aubrey decide to split mid way through the day, hoping to cover more ground with flyers and as you're strolling along the sidewalk next to the science building, you see the same black muscle car Beca happens to drive, speeding off in the distance and zooming through a red light to somewhere you can't follow for long before the car is long out of sight behind some trees.

You stop to ponder why Beca, who you didn't even think twice about believing it wasn't her driving the car, is in such a rush to do whatever it is that she needs to do. You also think back to what Aubrey said about Beca, with there being something weirdly "off" about her and maybe it's because of the fully loaded gun she carries, the extremely nice sports car, the definite image of a total badass vibe you get with only a single glance at her that makes her presence a little... _fishy_.

But you, being oblivious of everything by her God given looks, thinks the girl is just an amazing gift that happened to stumble her way into your lap and would give your right arm just to see in person again because the last time your big fat mouth ruined it for given a second chance to hang out with Beca, no way in Hell would you let it go to waste.

Trapped in a whirlwind of thoughts involving the infamous badass that roams Barden only in the shadows, you feel a tap on your shoulder from behind and quickly, you turn to face your you are unprepared for is that there happens to be two girls instead of one, but not only that.

The part takes take you on a roller coaster of thoughts is that standing in front of you, in an arm's reach of an actual human form is no other than Sindy and Terra, the same two girls who have been missing for the past two- almost _three_ weeks.

You don't hold in the sharp gasp that slips out; you don't even try to keep in how shocked you are to actually be face to face with them.

"Hi!" Terra, you think, chirps giddy and happy, only being vaguely familiar of their faces but knew of them as you've seen them around campus the previous years. "Are those flyers for the Bellas' rush this Friday?"

You don't say anything when hearing this because you're positive that 1). you're losing your damn mind and are hallucinating this whole scene and 2). are looking straight in the eyes of two ghosts, which this makes you believe that you're _bat shit crazy_.

They both look amazing for two girls that have been reported missing, with their perfect dirty blonde hair, perfectly done makeup that sculpts their faces and perfectly worn wardrobe set that makes them look like they just stepped off a photo shoot.

No longer do they have their usual athletic sports wear on they flaunted around Bearden prior to their kidnappings, instead they have heels- _actual freaking heels_ , skirts and a nice fitting blouse. There's no marks on them, no bruises and cuts, as it f they weren't traumatized by being kidnapped and are walking around like _nothing_ happened to them at all.

What the _Hell_ is going on right now?!

"Chloe?" Sindy waves her hand in front of your face and your whole body flinches like a spazz, and yes, it's as embarrassing as it sounds. "Are you okay?"

No. you're definitely not okay because you're having a Goddamn conversation with two girls who have been missing and it's been on the news and people claimed they were dead and _oh my God, am I having a sixth sense moment?_

 _Am I talking to two dead people right now?_

 _Someone get me a shrink pronto donte!_

"I...you….missing….what?" Are the random, scrambled up words your mouth is able to come up with and the two girls share worried a glance, acting like you're the crazy one, not them, who were seconds away from starring in a Dateline episode. "You guys are... _alright_?"

You can answer this question yourself; they're right in front of you standing even more glowy and definitely doing mentally more okay than you are, apparently. Your eyes dart around campus to anyone close enough to see if they're looking at that same thing you are and luckily, which makes you feel a little less like a crazy person is that most people walking around are just as frozen in place, staring like a deer caught in headlights at the two former volleyball girls.

"Yeah, silly," Terra laughs out loud, her teeth basically bleach white and it's sort of hard to stare at her from the glare off the sun's lights on her grin. "Why wouldn't we be?"

 _Um, because you two were kidnapped but now are walking around Barden like nothing happened, asking for sorority papers of a place where usually athletes would never stay in_ , you think. "Because you went missing?" But settle saying this instead and you say it like a question. "It was on the news. Police have been searching for you. We literally had a funeral the first week of school."

"Uh," Terra takes another glance at Sindy, and right now, you feel like you're the craziest person in the world trying to explain something so serious.

They start to giggle and you want to scream out in frustration because this is so not a laughing manner because you feel like you're losing your damn mind. What is so funny about that?

"I want whatever drug you're on at the rush this Friday!" Terra cheers, stealing a couple flyers from the stack you have held in your arms before taking off with her roommate and linking their arms.

Paralyzed really, standing motionless in your wooden wedges, you turn to follow their footsteps and not a second is wasted before police officers swarm campus over to the two girls, taking them to the back of their vehicles before speeding off to the station. Everyone outside during the time stands about as frozen as you are, staring at the area that held the two, living presences of Terra and Sindy.

"So they're back I see," a random voice appears next to your ear.

Being on the jumpy side of things with everything that just happened, you jerk violently away at the new guest standing directly to your left, bouncing and almost stumbling backwards from your heels if it wasn't for Beca's (you soon discover who it is) strong grip keeping you up. She pulls you until you're stable on your feet again and for a second, you think you've stopped breathing.

And maybe you are on the verge of passing out because Beca isn't wearing her sunglasses and her eyes in the sunlight are hands down the most beautiful things you have ever seen.

Beca smirks as she makes sure you're far away from falling and firm on your feet and you try your hardest not to shudder under her smirk.

"Slow down, Red. Not a good town for you to be caught off guard," and then she walks away, leaving you to stare at such a beautiful creation, with her ripped up skinny jeans, black leather jacket and wavy hair that has a major effect when it comes to your cardiovascular system as she ventures off in the distance.

And what did she mean by that? Watching yourself in this town. Is that like a warning or something?

 _Oh my God,_ today can't get anymore weird.

You toss that thought aside for now; you dwelling on it now will only cause you more stress than you need. There's still a stack of flyers that needed to be handed out for the rush, so you continue scavenging throughout Barden for some young girls that are interested in pledging.

It doesn't make much sense, taking that everyone at this point knows about Roxy's departure and a party, under strict housing rules will be unable to take place unless a house mother is under supervision.

But you know Aubrey and how she is prone to throw a fit if things aren't done her way, or done at top notch, so you continue to drag yourself around campus like a pack mule to hand out these damn papers.

Terra and Sindy are back. Out of the blue and all. People are taking it quite well as they continue going about their daily activities, but you can't help but think there is a strange stench in the air.

On the plus side, at least you saw Beca today, though it was very, _very_ brief. Practically only a few shared words if you're being completely honest, but still, it just happened to brighten up your day that much more.

* * *

You're back in classes today; things around the Bellas are starting to falling back in place, even as a crappy Monday morning. The grand appearance of Terra and Sindy, sure, was all that Barden and the local news could possibly talk about, filling in the questions regarding their disappearances with the words, "we just left town for a bit to catch some fresh air.

It's really no big deal" and that was good enough for the police because they were alive, and Barden wasn't so on the edge with things regarding their whereabouts, which left them problem free now that they're alive and well.

You, however, think this is sketchy and pure bologna with what the girls are saying because still, Gretchen has been missing for longer and still, as far as her whereabouts, remain unknown.

Maybe this was the kidnapper's big plan; to catch Barden off guard when we have our defenses let down, just planning on another abduction when we least expect it. All you know is that everything happening around Barden is weird, including Terra and Sindy's anticlimactic arrival from wherever it was that they went.

You at least expected some hit reality TV show to come film at Barden, maybe even make a movie about Terra and Sindy, but no.

Today went on just like any other normal day at a University; people eased up, the tension off everyone's shoulders decreased _tremendously_. Even Aubrey had no other words besides "I'm glad police found the girls and that they are okay" to wrap up your series of questions as to **why**.

And why are you the only one here totally and completely freaked about about everyone else **not** freaking out?

But then again, you can't really do much but to sit and watch everything unfold, hoping that no other kidnappings will take place, and if they do, police will catch whoever it is behind all of it.

Letting go seems to be the answer to this strange occurrence, so that's what you're trying your hardest to do right now.

As classes pass and it's hitting around three in the afternoon, plans regarding your sorority take full blast. Patiently after changing into something more formal, rather than yoga pants and a hoodie that you showed up to classes in, you sit in the kitchen with Aubrey directly by your side, eagerly waiting for the arrival of the new house mothers in position for Roxy's.

As far as the rest of the house, it took a lot longer than expected, but things eventually went on just like they always did, except you had to do the groceries, and clean the house, and pay all the house bills that you soon handed off to Aubrey because she was a lot smarter in the number department.

Other than all of that though, the time spent without a house mom wasn't as hard as you expected it to be.

A faint knock on the front door alerts you that the house mothers have arrived. Aubrey does the honors with letting the new guests in, getting up from the table and heading out of the kitchen to the door. You hear all the normal greetings but mostly it comes out as muffled talk. Straightening out your pencil skirt that you've opted with this afternoon for a more formal wear, you rise to a stand, waiting at the balls of your feet for whoever is about walk in.

Expecting one woman to be conjoined at Aubrey's hip and ready for a proper introduction, it takes you for a whirl seeing that there are in fact _two_ women, both standing straight, wearing all black dresses, with their shimmering blonde hair tied up tight in a high, magically perfect bun.

Your breath hitches at the sight of these two ridiculously gorgeous women and can't help but to admire their abnormal glow to their skin that catches your eye the moment they walked into the kitchen.

If you're being completely honest, which you are, these two women do not look like they should be house mothers. If anything, they should be considered sisters because they both don't look a day pass twenty three.

And wait, why is there two of them?

"You must be Chloe," One of the older blondes holds out her hand before you on instinct reach out to shake it, but that doesn't take away the state of awe you're wrapped in. They're two big balls of sunshine in a room filled with winter and it definitely wasn't hard to breathe before they walked in. "My name is Gail Abernathy McKadden and this is my sister Kommissar. We are your new house mothers."

"I thought we had a list of house mothers to go through?" You question, not understanding how these women could already be assigned as the Bellas' house mothers when they were the only ones to show up.

Gail, the older one, you can account, shrugs her shoulders, her slim fingers and shimmery black nails tapping along the table top. "President said that no one else showed up." Her and Kommissar start to walk around in the kitchen, taking in their new surroundings in effort to get familiar with the place since apparently, they're here to stay.

Your eyes shift to Aubrey, who stands awkwardly behind the new house mothers and gives that helpless, "nothing she can do" facial expression while the blondes move out to the Bellas' living room. You don't know what it is but something about these two are sketchy. From their all black wardrobes and ancient jewelry they have on and perfect body structures, all the way to the weird aroma you get from them.

There is definitely something odd about these woman, but you can't lay a finger on it yet.

"First order of business, we have to polish up the girls we would like to take in," Gail announces all of a sudden, dead center in the living room where pictures of past generations of Bellas hang on the walls and you laugh out loud at first, thinking she was joking, but by the lack of mutual amusement you get in return, you can tell she was everything _but_ joking.

"I second that," Kommissar snickers and it comes out twisted and wicked, something that doesn't help but make her more skeptical than she already is, "We can't afford girls who may be average, possibly _mediocre_ on the charts. We need girls who make other girls _envy_ them."

You can only blink hearing all of this nonsense, flabbergasted that these two... **newbies,** basically strangers, if anything, have the audacity to come in, act like they run this place and try rearranging all the rules the Bellas have had for ages.

 _As if_!

"Here at the Bellas we do not discriminate. Anyone that wants to pledge, they're allowed to," Aubrey steps forward and uses her authoritative voice to prove a point and you stand behind her, giving off that proud expression you usually get when Aubrey puts people in their place. "And also, Beta Theta Pi is the largest sorority in all of the south, so we don't have a problem snatching pledgees."

Gail arches her brow, tossing Aubrey a challenging look with her snakey eyes that physically makes you shrivel up behind your friend's back, only now slightly terrified of these woman and what's about to be unleashed on your best friend.

"You're the head sisters here right?" Gail then smiles in a disgustingly creepy way and both you and Aubrey nod your heads, but it was after a few seconds of hesitation. "You both are _beautiful_ , by the way...especially you." Gail arches her neck over Aubrey's shoulder and the smile is then directed towards you." With your flawless red hair, bright blue eyes and God perfect skin, _my goodness_ " Gail lists with an ending groan and receiving these complements shouldn't be as uncomfortable as they are for you, but right now, it doesn't make you feel anything but fear.

"The Bellas need more girls like you two," Kommissar adds, joining her sister in front of Aubrey. "For now until the rush, we'll be helping you out with some of the recruiting. I'm glad we got here before the barn yarn explosion that was about to happen." And she giggles; Gail soon joining before they resume to look around the living room.

You poke Aubrey in the ribs, stretching your eyes wide and desperate for her to take the ropes and do something before these women burn the Bellas' house to the ground.

"Uh..Gail?" Aubrey clears her throat, awkwardly raising her hand as if she's in a classroom.

Gail turns around from the organized blue and yellow Bellas' scarfs that are hanging next to this year's graduating class portrait. "Oh and that reminds me. My sister and I will only be referring to the name Mistress from here on out."

"What?" At this, your mouth can only speak what you're truly taken back and it's already too late to keep it in.

Now this she has to be joking about.

Right?

"We were raised in a home of manners and would like you girls to treat us with the same respect," Gail waits for some type of response from both you and Aubrey and what you give her is two firm nods. She smiles again, and it prickles your spine with how eerie it comes off as.

"Good. We will get along just fine then."You give off this awkward type of laugh, something you tend to do when you feel uncomfortable and right now, your skin tingles with how much you want to get away from these women. "Don't want us to have any problems now do we?" Gail shoots you a slow wink before walking up the stairs in the house, Kommisar closely in tow and _wow_. Did you just get threatened?

Nope, nope, nope, nope, nope, **nope**.

This is not okay.

You thought you were getting one normal house mother to raise the Bellas but instead, you got **two** house mothers from Hell.

What in the world is happening to Barden right now?


	4. Chapter 4

**Longer chapter my friends. Hopefully some questions will be answered! Also just an FYI, the Bellas are a huge sorority. There's about forty girls total, I am planning, but of course not every girl will be mentioned.**

 **Music this Chap**

 **"Sugar, We're Going Down" by Fall Out Boy**

 **"I Want To Know What Love Is" by Foreigner**

 **Enjoy!**

 **(I DO NOT OWN PITCH PERFECT NOR THE SONGS MENTIONED)**

* * *

 **Chapter Four: You Gotta Be Kidding Me?**

Immediately after meeting Gail and Komissar, you and Aubrey basically sprint to the dean's office on campus, banging on his doors for some sort of explanation as to _why_ they received the wicked witches from the East and West as their designated house mothers.

If anything this should be considered a crime, expecting college females to experience the drastic change from Roxy, a sweet, caring house mother to Gail and Komissar, who seem like they eat small children for breakfast.

This is not okay, as previously said before, and you and Aubrey will not stand for it without some sort of say as to who they allow in their home.

There's a lot of yelling going on; Aubrey almost blows chunks all over his desk as her high intensity levels of stress catch up to her, bubbles her gut and pale her face as white as a ghost.

You almost start crying, already sensing the future and all that the Bella name holds crashing and burning and really, you're just the type of person who always cries whether it's good news or bad, so it's not that shocking when you feel your eyes start to gloss over and that tickle is strong inside your nose.

Unfortunately, the dean tells you the one thing that you came into his office not wanting to hear and that is " _there's nothing I could do for you girls if there were no other house mothers up for the position. They were the only ones to show up. If there was more to choose from, they'd be gone."_

Jessica texts you saying there's two women moving stuff into the house and they're putting up a bunch of candles around the house and Ashley tells you that she swore one of them had a creepy looking doll of such, stashed in a vintage looking suitcase.

Lilly, a quite Bella who only talks in a whisper so no one around the house _actually_ can comprehend what she is saying texts you something about burning these two new woman because of certain _suspicions_ , which you can only kind of agree with because even though you've only just been introduced to Gail and Kommisar, that prickly, eerie feeling you got inside your gut the first moment you shook their hands is still as strong as ever.

But you, the bearer of bad news, just texts them back that you, along with fifteen other Bella sisters have just been granted two new house mothers and to buckle up because they're here to stay, regardless of how weird they may be.

It's either two evil house mothers running the Bellas, or _no_ Bellas at all. You wouldn't be able to survive living back at the dorm, or even the jail like on campus apartments that are granted to upperclassmen. The noises neighbors, who always blast their music late at night while you're trying to study, or engage in very _inappropriate_ activities that wouldn't be so bad if the walls weren't paper thin.

And don't even get you started about eating at the cafe again because if you do, you aren't too sure what will come rising back up at the thought of eating pork chops and those unappealing burgers once again.

So of course not wanting the Bellas' house to be bulldozed and terminated, you and Aubrey drag your beaten up bodies out of his office, defeated and head back to the Bellas, assuming that Gail and Komissar are already packed in.

Or should you say, Mistress one and Mistress two.

 _Good grief_ this year is going to be a long one.

* * *

Over the past couple days when you're not enduring the fishy atmosphere of the Bellas' new and improved home, you've been doing majority of the work scouting out Beca, hassling her with endless questions because no matter how hard you try, you just can't seem to get to the bottom of the mystery she brings along.

Today though, you're gifted by the unknowing presence of the badass herself when she corners you in the hallway of the science building, demanding for some time to talk.

"Hey," she says once you guys are following the same path to the campus greens outside and she's wearing a sweet smile this time with her teeth gleaming instead of one of her coy smirks and shockingly, it's something you prefer more than that other one, even though the smirk has a definite spot under the list of your most favorite things about Beca.

Not that you have a list- _that'd be creepy..ha..ha._

"Hi Beca," you greet cheery and mirror a similar smile. It hasn't been long, barely even twenty four hours, but every time you run into Beca throughout the day, the actuality of how much you missed her bangs you like a snare drum. "What's up? How were classes?" you ask, but then there's an itch in your gut at the memory of the last time you've chatted for longer than a couple minutes and you blew it by being nosey and asked about her mom. "Sorry about when we talked last time and with all the nosey questions and stuff-"

"Wanna have lunch with me?" Beca doesn't even let you finish the sentence before she invites you to have lunch with her and all the formed up words before turn into a big glob of just unprocessed vocabulary.

"Uh..." Taken off guard by the direct question with no formal greeting in between, your feet stop moving and Beca's follow, standing right in front of you and waiting for an answer. "Sure." You try with all your might to act nonchalant about agreeing to have lunch with Beca and try _hard_ not to look into the invitation whether it was a kinda date or not.

But inner you most definitely considers this a kinda date, no matter how many times _real_ you tries to convince you that it's not.

Beca smiles large at your response and nods with her head to follow through the doors. Keeping close while she maneuvers the both of your through the hallway, weaving in and out of the crowds standing in the way until you guys are fully outside, walking along the campus green.

A small sandwich stop near the dorms and by the cafe where freshman usually eat is where the two of you end up choosing from and really, it's the first time since three ago years you have stepped foot in the sub.

Crazy how out of the loop the Bellas' house is away from campus and all it has to offer. This place would be yours and Aubrey's go-to lunch date place to gossip in between classes, mingle about who's dating who and which one of you had your eyes on someone lucky.

You don't know if you'd even come back in here if it wasn't for Beca. Nonetheless, however, though you do not miss the smell of the cafe food, you are happy Beca took you back to a place with so many fond memories from freshman year and not the memories of food poisoning.

You build a sandwich when you're next in line; this place use to be your favorite when you were sick of eating the crappy cafe food and needed something delicious and cheap. Ham and turkey was always your go to, but when you felt more on the wild side of trying new things, chicken teriyaki was another safe bet.

But today as you're not all that hungry because of the unnatural nerves you get around Beca, especially having lunch together, and more on the safe side of decisions, you choose a ham and turkey sandwich to go.

"Together or separate?" The cashier asks while bagging Beca's sandwich since she made her's first. He's a young boy, probably running the sandwich shop as a work study and has to be no older than a sophomore.

You're about to say separate while scavenging through your Mary Poppins purse for your wallet to pay until Beca beats you to it.

"Together is good." She pulls out her own wallet from her jean's back pocket and takes out a twenty dollar bill after hearing the cost, handing it over to the boy who takes it with a small "thanks."

"You don't have to pay for me." Your smile is so ridiculously wide while saying this, unable to shake the giddiness that Beca is paying for your lunch right now. Someone pinch you-you think you may be dreaming.

 _This is so totally a date._

"I know I don't," is Beca's nonchalant response as she watches the young boy open the register to retrieve her change and before she can fully put her wallet away, you can't help but notice the layers of money she has inside. For being a freshman, especially with your fond memory of living weeks on ramen noodles and cereal, a typical freshman doesn't carry around _multiple_ twenty dollar bills in their wallet. "Rules aren't really my thing."

"I can see that."

You catch that sly smirk on top of a quick shrug before she turns to face the cashier and you can feel your insides twisting into knots, which then causes you to forget about Beca carrying around a millionaire's wallet.

There could be a chance Beca is so intoxicating to you because she's the first real "bad girl" you've associated yourself with. In school, people would call you _goody two-shoes_ , mostly because you were nice to literally everyone, even when you definitely shouldn't of been nice to always put homework and school first, never got into any trouble and were your teachers' number one fan.

Being called a doormat was your breaking point in high school when your "best friend" at the time swore you gave too much to people and allowed them to walk all over you. This was directed more towards your ex boyfriend, Ben, who was the ass who made you experience a _real_ broken heart, but you know she meant it for everyone who was able to take advantage.

You tried changing, learning the word "no" for a change and putting yourself before anyone else.

But then and especially even today, you just couldn't find a single bad bone in your body.

With Beca and her rebellious attitude, she gives you this _extra_ courage that you could never find back then, or even just yesterday.

When the sandwiches are all bagged up, the boy hands them over to Beca, along with her change and gives his thanks for stopping in. You follow Beca outside like a puppy dog it feels like, still managing to swoon over Beca's subtle, chivalrous offer to pay for your lunch.

Also, her holding the door open for you is only adding to Beca's charm, which makes it even harder to keep your posture under control so you don't end up ruining yet _another_ time spent with Beca while drowning deep under admiration from the neck down.

At least now you know Beca has a weak spot for you when it comes to being a gentleman.

Whatever are you suppose to do now?

Now outside after ordering and finding the same shady spot Beca was at the second time you saw her, you take a seat down next to her while she fishes for your sandwich.

"Thank you for lunch," you say with the same face splitting grin and it comes out a lot more on the calmer side then how you feel right this moment.

"No problem."

You take the sandwich she hands you and start to peel the wrapper open.

"How are you?" Beca asks, taking a chomp out of her sandwich once you both had your lunches.

You swallow all your food before answering, hold up a single finger. With your luck, you'd end up spitting out pieces of chewed up ham in Beca's face, only topping off this friend date type...thing.

Plus, manners, _duh_.

"I'm good! Busy with class and stuff."

"How's the Bellas?" Beca asks with a mouthful and it shouldn't be as adorable as it is because for a split second, there's a patch of bread crumbs clinging from her chin, and a splash of mayo at one corner of her mouth until her tongue peeks out to lick it away.

You light up when Beca asks this question, taken by surprise that she actually wants to know about your sorority when the last time you two talked about the Bellas she called it _lame_ and had no interest whatsoever. "Roxy, our old house mom like...totally abandoned us, so we got two new house mothers, which is… _interesting_."

"You don't sound too upbeat about that, Red." Beca snickers and takes another bite out of her sandwich and you just roll your eyes because the sarcasm isn't true enough. "Why is that?" She looks at you sideways, chewing on her food.

"They're nice, don't get me wrong. Super pretty and blonde and young and one is German who has a _crazy_ accent, but they are both sisters, which doesn't really make sense and they wear a lot of black and similar funeral looking hat... _things_ and they brought in like three cats that are _insanely_ creepy and all black and..." you release a large exhale before you end up passing out with the lack of oxygen, which causes you to pause mid sentence. That little ramble literally left you blue in the face and breathless. "They want to be called mistress."

There's a whole list you could go off on as to why Gail and Kommissar are so sketchy, including their demands for change in literally everything the Bellas have done in routine for generations, but this is by far the weirdest.

Also, the recruiting for new Bellas is extremely strange as you and Aubrey now have a checklist to go off of who can and cannot be considered a Bella. Never once before was there the "ideal" Bella image that needed to be upheld, no discriminating, but now, everyone that pledged had to be tall, absolutely gorgeous and could be mistaken as a runway model.

"Huh," Beca takes in the mouthful you laid on her, pondering out in the distance. "That's… a little _off_."

"You think?" You retort with a tired scoff.

"How's everyone in the house acting?" Beca asks and you raise your eyebrows up incredulously. You're pretty sure Beca only knows you in the house, other than Aubrey whose name wouldn't be caught dead coming from Beca's mouth.

And though Stacie is more likely than not going to become a Bella when Friday comes around, she's still not moved in for Beca to be dropping the "how's she doing" card just yet.

"They're fine….I think." You shrug your shoulders, half of you not really knowing how to answer this and the other half having absolutely no idea.

You've been too busy with Aubrey planning out the rush and passing out flyers to spread the word about it. By the time you get to the Bellas' house, you are too exhausted to mingle with your sisters.

Beca nods her head.

"Any…. _suspicious_ behavior or things changing?"

Okay, now these questions were making you think. Why is Beca so interested in the Bellas all of a sudden?

"Why? You wanna join now? Finally learned that the Bellas here are _the tits_?" You joke with a giggle and Beca soon joins, shaking her head as she tries not to crack with her own laughs. "Though the standards have changed quite a bit and sadly, your height won't make the cut."

Beca sobers pretty quickly, crinkling her sandwich bag into a tiny ball and finishing the last bit of her sandwich with a single bite. "What do you mean?" She mumbles in between chews.

You release a heavy sigh, laying the other half of your sandwich on the paper bag before wrapping it up so you can eat it later. "If you aren't drop dead gorgeous, then you can't pledge….well I mean, you _can_ pledge, but chances are you won't get in, even if you're willing to pay the outrageous housing fee. Plus, people who I would never assume would want to be a Bella are asking for papers, including Terra and Sindy, who I'm still not over with them reappearing like a damn magic show and everyone acting like it's completely normal," you say this with a huff rolling your eyes because people are thinking it you who's the over exaggerator.

You can see Beca stuck in deep thought, thinking about this to herself. Her tone in body language goes from content to distraught and maybe even a little paranoid in the matter of seconds. She combs a hand through her hair, leaving it at the top of her head as she easily rests her elbow above her bent knee.

"Shit," and you barely catch the inaudible murmur she says under her breath, probably only meant for her to hear.

"Everything okay?" You ask worried. It's not the most obvious thing in the world but you can tell something is bothering Beca. One of your many pluses is being able to read people pretty well.

This shakes Beca out of her thoughts and she curves a half smile to cover up whatever it is bothering her. "Yeah." She nods her head, bringing both knees up to her chest and resting her elbows on top. Her body returns to normal, less tense and she has her strong coat of armor back on for show. "Wanna tell me why I just can't seem to get rid of you?" She smirks, trying to change the subject and you don't fully believe that Beca is actually okay. Guess it's just another one of her little secrets that you can't squeeze out of her.

Your jaw drops and you raise your hand to clench at your heart offended. "Excuse me, but wasn't it **you** who stalked me this afternoon, demanding to have lunch together?"

That same half smile stays tugged at the corner of Beca's mouth. "Nah. I think it was just a coincidence."

You snort at Beca's witty response and find your eyes glued to Beca's. They're bluer today, more blue than they have been the last encounters and being close enough, you can examine all the little patches of blue that are darker than the rest.

"How weird is it that those two girls are back and roaming Barden again?"

You slap your hand on the ground next to you, twisting your body to face Beca before going criss cross applesauce. " _ **So**_ weird!" you exclaim, drawling out your words. "What's even more weird is that no one seems to care either. _**And**_ they both are planning on pledging."

"Isn't it the point to get more pledges?" Beca raises a challenging brow your way. "You know, to keep your precious house up and running?"

"Well….yeah," you pause; Beca has you beat there. "But these are girls that would've never pledged Beta before. They're NCAA athletes, who work out like crazy, practice like crazy and could hands down beat up anyone in the current Bellas with their pinkies."

"There's absolutely no way I believe that. You got some pretty hefty guns on you, I have to admit." Beca reaches out her finger to poke around your bicep region and you roll your eyes despite the giggle that can't help but sneak out and you give Beca a show, flexing your right arm in every different direction while she continues to poke that one area of muscle.

Pushing Beca's hand away from your arm when you're finally done giggling, "speaking about guns, wanna tell me why you carry one on you?" You ask, biting your bottom lip. "And can I maybe...see it?"

"Protection," Beca shrugs innocently and doesn't even question your abnormal fascination with her weapon as she slides her jacket to the side and unclips her gun from her belt loop. "Pretty sure I already told you this." You sit in awe, staring dumbly at the matte black handgun pointed your way. "Desert eagle." She hands you over the gun and maybe she's referring to what type of gun it is, as if you _semi_ had a clue, but in all honesty, you thought it was a normal pistol because they all look the same for some reason.

Different brands and types fly way over your head.

The gun is heavy and a lot smoother than you could've ever imagined it would be and it then processes to you that the gun is no doubt _fully_ loaded. " _Cannot_ believe you trust me with this," you say this with a chuckle while you cautiously move the gun around, getting a different look at each side and each time, it never ceases to amaze you that Beca carries something this dangerous on her.

"Safety is on," Beca clears up. "Only takes one inexperience noob to blow someone's head off, so I switched it on before I handed it to you."

"Okay touché," you agree, bouncing your head side to side and give Beca her gun back in a hurry before someone catches you on campus with a weapon. Goodness, how would that look on your file with the Bellas? "But as of now, wanna tell me why you carry a pocket knife on you?"

"I don't have a pocket knife," Beca answers in all seriousness, though you try to scout out any breaks in her face to prove she is just messing around, but come out empty handed.

She's lying.

She _has_ to be lying.

Your face pretty much got an up close and personal introduction to her pocket knife yesterday, you remember crazy things like these. There's no way you couldn't of… _imagined_ all of that to happen.

But then again, things have been bizarre around Barden so you really don't know what to believe and what not to believe anymore.

Beca reaches into her leather jacket with the arm that doesn't have her propped up. "It's a butterfly knife." She takes out a matte silver knife from her pockets; the same one that was millimeters away from your nose just the other day and she whips it backwards, flashing the sharp blade.

Then she goes on and flips the handles connected to the blade back and forth around her hand and knuckles in a way that you have only seen secret agent spies do in movies, or ninjas.

"Oh my God!" Your jaw drops at the way the knife moves so delicately between Beca's fingers as she twirls it around like a drumstick or a baton. "Where did you learn to do that?!"

Beca releases the knife in the air, allowing the blades and handles to spin like a helicopter hat before landing securely shut in the palm of Beca's hand. "If I told you, I'd have to kill you."

You didn't really think Beca could get anymore hotter than she already was, but watching her twirl around a knife like a chopstick _definitely_ did it's own set of tricks with turning you on in a way never experienced before.

"Who _are_ you?" You ask, getting to the point where you're _dying_ to know her dark secret now that you've seen in person that she is part ninja.

Beca shoves the knife back into her pocket and doesn't even make a sound to answer. Heavy silence takes over the conversation and you think your ears are starting to ring as Beca just stares at you with that crooked smile and dark eyes, not even batting a lash your way.

"Someone you should stay far away from," Beca finally answers and somehow during the wait, the two of you have gravitated closer. So close, you can feel her breath hit your face every word. "You look like you've got your life on track. Odds are that hanging with me would only ruin that for you."

"What if I wanna take that chance?" You move in even closer after saying this, so close to Beca that if any of you were to even flinch forward, both of your lips would meet.

Her stare is strong and you feel like you've lost all sensation in your arms and legs. Moving is out of the options; you can barely even breathe through the stare and you're stuck at a distance so close- the closest you've ever been to the freshman, yet still so far away.

For a split second, you honestly thought you and Beca were going to kiss. You don't know why; you don't know _how_ , but you know it's going to happen because there is something _there_ tugging you guys closer, like a pair of strong, attracting magnets.

You could smell the oddly added cucumbers from her sandwich radiating out from her mouth and your nose is close enough to barely graze hers. Unfortunately, however, Beca pulls away before you guys actually end up kissing, standing to her feet and offering you a hand to join her as well.

Welp, that went in a totally different direction down the deep, dark street of awkward and _terribleness_.

 _Great planning, Chloe._

"I gotta go," Beca announces and you want to roll your eyes a million and one times because every time you think you're getting close to finding out about her, she bails before you get the chance. "This was...nice. Lunch and all." She snickers, rubbing a hand behind her neck that you can't help but think is super cute despite your irritated urge to strangle the answers out. Her being all shy and timid, a behavior you would never expect, or even imagine seeing from her.

"Yeah," you agree, forming a smile that you hope isn't showing your true colors about how frustrating talking to Beca actually is. "We should do it again sometime."

"Maybe," Beca purrs slowly. "If you're lucky, Red." And you're quivering at this point, irritation long gone after hearing the decrease timbre in Beca's voice. "I'll see you around."

Beca's turning around on her heels before you get the chance to even process anything, let alone prevent her from leaving.

You sigh and rub your temples once Beca far enough away on campus, inhaling deeply in effort to remain composed. You don't want to be irritated with Beca; she doesn't have lay out all her secrets on the table with you.

But in all honesty, you don't exactly know what you're more ticked off about; the fact that Beca is so closed off and secretive, or the fact that she is _literally_ your real life heroine drug and is something you just can't seem to get enough of.

Guilty as charged, you can raise your hand up high and admit that you've fallen victim to Beca's rebellious, dark side ego she flaunts so big and bad with around school. It's undeniably _hot_ and everything else Beca does, even breathing, makes you ache in places you never thought could ache.

You don't associate yourself with such darkness when your life is full of sunshine and smiles, not eye rolls, cigarettes and a collection of deadly weapons. This could be a sign; a warning to turn you away before you're in too deep. But so far, you for one can say for yourself that you've already fallen too deep with this girl.

And maybe Aubrey's right about there being something going on that's different from the average freshman Barden receives.

But it doesn't mean that different _something_ is a bad thing.

* * *

As exciting as it sounds being stuck in English lecture, clocks hit two in the afternoon and finally you're free to go home for some much needed "Chloe time" alone. The rest of your classes after lunch were a total _snooze_ , nothing exciting happened this time around to get you through the dreadful hours.

During that time while drowning your face with classwork, your phone endured a very large group message with Gail, Kommissar and the rest of your sisters, informing everyone that tonight is karaoke night at a local bar around Barden and it's _mandatory_ to attend.

Karaoke is kind of the Bellas "thing" to do and not to be cocky or anything, but you guys were pretty damn good. You knew this, _everyone_ else knew this and even those smaller sororities that would grow bold and try to battle against the Bellas knew that every girl competing might as well drop out of college and try out for _The Voice._

Singing was always one of your hidden talents, though it wasn't really hidden because whenever you got the chance, you'd be either singing or humming some song stuck in your head as you clean the house or cook up dinner. The vocals you think come from your mom's side of the family since your dad and brothers can't hit a note to save their life.

They also might be tone deaf, as well, but that's not important.

Needless to say, singing tonight and singing with your sisters with maybe a few drinks to get your mind off of stuff (Beca) is the only thing you need, because these last few days have been total poo.

You text the group back with some more missed information about tonight; when to be there, what to wear and all that fun jazz. As you're walking out of the English building and heading out to the parking lot where your bug is parked, you hear someone singing.

A beautiful voice by the few words you can catch.

The parking lot for the most part is empty; no one is really in sight and definitely nobody looking as if they're hosting a free concert catches your eyes.

But the angelic voice is still there, hidden and all, but you're destined to find whoever it is producing such a glorious noise.

Walking around mindlessly through the parking lot, playing hot and cold with the singing, you stop in place when you see Beca's car parked alone in the farthest possible parking space. As you move closer to her car, the singing only gets louder, more clear to hear, and it isn't until you're right in front of the bumper where Beca, who is laying on her hood again, arms crossed beneath her head with one leg bent up, eyes closed and mouth moving in motion to the singing you are hearing that you realize she is the one doing the singing.

The lyrics are more than familiar; you know this by being considered a fangirl to Fall Out Boy's "Sugar, We're Goin Down," which is their best song they came out with, in your opinion. The music is playing softly from the inside of Beca's car and she has her windows rolled down to listen at a perfect volume without disturbing anyone else.

It's peaceful and relaxing, you must admit.

You think about joining Beca with her singing, but you also think about that if you were to start singing, it would take away the moment of only admiring such a powerful voice come from such a tiny body. So you just stand there unnoticed with some sort of dazed, maniac smile, enjoying Beca's singing maybe a little too much.

"Stop staring," Beca mutters, but doesn't open her eyes and it surprises you that she even knew that you were there. At least this time you didn't get a warm welcome from her knife to the face.

"How'd you know it was me?" you challenge, only slightly disturbed that Beca knew it was you without opening her eyes.

"Perfume," is all Beca replies with, monotone and unfazed.

You take a whiff of your shoulder and by doing that, your perfume from this morning is still as strong as ever. "You can sing though!" you exclaim, as if you just discovered the Da Vinci Code.

Beca now peeks a single eye open at your raise in voice volume, unamused that her relaxation on top of her car was _yet again_ disrupted by her bugging shadow with red hair.

"I didn't know you could sing! And wow….you can _really_ sing." You sigh wistfully, Beca's voice still having a dangerous toll on your body.

"It's whatever." Beca doesn't seem all that angry that she's being bothered by you again for the second time in one day, but in your defense, you had no idea the angelic voice would end up being Beca once you found a body to pair with the singing. "Music and all is kinda my thing."

"Really? What kind of music do you listen to?" You question interested. Hopefully this little bit of information doesn't come with a price of a limb of yours just to get it out of the girl.

Beca sighs and moves to prop her body up, elbows braced behind her back. The pose is something else and you start to compare it to one of those motor junkies and their calendars with hot models posing on top and around the _nicest_ muscle cars ever built and you try your hardest not to whimper, seeing Beca exposing her hotness without really knowing how it's truly affecting you. Hair draped over one shoulder, one leg bent up on the hood where her boots rest above the metal and _good God ,Chloe focus!_

"I like it all actually. From rock 80's rock to today's hip hop and yesterday's EDM music, it all fascinates me."

"Same! Basically anything I can dance to!" You agree cheerfully and hide the glee that bubbles when it clicks that you and Beca have the same music taste. "You should come to the bar tonight," you insist with a hopeful smile. "I know you aren't really... _of age_ to drink and stuff, but karaoke is super big at Barden and the Bellas are going against Kappa Nu, so we have to defend our champion title and I would love to maybe do a duet or something with you."

" _Gee_ , wow! Now that sure does sound like a grand ol' time," Beca snorts this out sarcastically, both eyes now open and you manage to not look like a kicked puppy even though is what you feel like. "But I'm gonna have to pass."

"Oh come on!" You actually stomp your foot hearing Beca decline the invitation and to make it even more childish, your voice comes out as a whine. "Can't you take a break from your _secret,_ double life doing _whatever_ it is that you do and have some fun?" On to the next tactic when seeing Beca is staring at you intently, your bottom lip juts out and you give her your best impersonation of puppy dog eyes.

Unfazed by the look, Beca rolls her eyes and rolls off the hood of her Mustang, sliding on those same pair of aviators and doing a great job of ignoring your pout you've mastered to win so many people over with.

" _God_ , you're even worse than my roommate."

At the sudden memory of Stacie, your stomach does that weird twisting again and you can feel your blood start to boil. You really need to get a hold of this jealousy deal.

"I'll tell you what I told her and that was I'd rather watch paint dry than endure a night of painful singing."

 _Ouch_. That stung a bit, you got to admit.

Beca is acting different than how she was during lunch today. Back then, she was charming and sweet and for once, didn't look her usual prickly self.

But now, only a couple hours later, she's right back to her distant, irritated with the world and everything that comes with it and you don't understand why she is so hot and cold all the time.

It's more than irritating.

"But I guess hanging out with you could be fun," Beca adds with her mouth curving into a slight grin that unleashes a cageful of butterflies into your stomach, irritation _vanishing_.

You can't even say anything after that, not even a response agreeing that Beca would be mutually as fun, because words at this point are non existent as long as Beca is looking at you.

Though you can't really see her eyes, which holds another set of powers on you and she is biting on her bottom lip in a way that pinches your insides in the best way possible.

 _Good Lord, this girl is sexy._

She opens the door to her car, but stops before entering, smile still present and doing the same amount of damage on you.

You like Beca's smile, a lot, but you _love_ her smile when you know you're the reason behind it.

"Maybe I'll see you tonight."

And you just stand there with the biggest grin on your face because even though it wasn't full confirmation that Beca will be joining you and your sisters tonight, at least you got a _maybe_ instead of a _no_.

That's a plus, right?

* * *

" _In my life there's been heartache and pain_

 _I don't know if I can face it again_

 _Can't stop now, I've traveled so far, to change this lonely life_

 _I want to know what love is, I want you to show me_

 _I want to feel what love is, I know you can show me."_

You're in the shower when listening to the beautiful voice of Lou Gramm echoing against the tiles while water drips down the tip of your nose and your muscles soothe to relax under the heat from the water. How long you've been standing here is something you aren't too sure of, but by the way your fingers are starting to wrinkle, you can take a rough guess and say it has been a while.

An arm on the shower wall holds you up as your forehead rests on the tile while you get lost in deep thought.

You're falling **hard** for Beca, you finally come to conclusion.

And it feels just as unrealistic and scary as it sounds.

You ever just stick your arms out to the sides and spin in circles until you can't see straight? The world gets flipped upside down, there's constant butterflies swarming around in your tummy and the feeling of dizziness doesn't seem to go away?

That's what it feels like when talking to Beca, seeing her in person and _immediately_ falling under some sort of spell with her.

It's extremely strange and before she came around, you'd never thought it would be possible to fall for someone this fast, this hard and be so moonstruck by another being. You were content at living life as you knew how; busy with school and being the _best_ head sister the Bellas have ever had.

But here's Beca in all her _mysterious_ demeanor making a hand appearance and here's you, driving down the long, never ending road to only get your heart crushed into a thousand tiny pieces.

She's the type of girl that your parents would warn you about, and, _yes_ , you think that maybe you're jumping the gun a little too fast here with Beca, going down the wrong turn, but no matter how hard you try to tell yourself to ease up, your foot hits down on the accelerator and you fall deeper into attraction towards this freshman.

She makes you want to sneak out of home in the late hours, crawl out the window and jump into the passenger seat of her car without any information on where Beca would be taking you. And when you finally make it, old Def Leppard or AC/DC would be playing loudly in the background of Beca's car while the two of you just make out senselessly like a bunch of teenagers under the clear skies of Atlanta Georgia.

She gives you this sort of rush- _adrenaline_ rush and it has you craving a heavy dose for more every time you see that rebellious freshman.

Someone; you don't care who it is but _someone, please_ , for the life of _God_ reel you back into reality before you end up doing something you'll regret later on.

"Chloe, you better not use all the hot water! There's a house full of Bellas who need to get ready for tonight and it will be your head on a silver platter if we have to take it under icicles!" Aubrey's threat blares through the steam filled bathroom and you groan out loud, but also shut the water off because you do not want to test your luck when Aubrey is a popsicle after showering.

Guess that's your cue to stop thinking about the freshman.

 _For now._

* * *

Karaoke is fun, for the most part.

The Bellas hold their title as champs when singing Fifth Harmony's "Work," with added choreography that gave them the extra boost above all the other opponents and a _crap ton_ of whistles around the room. The Bellas even go against some of the frat houses and their pledges, which Bumper, head house brother made all the upcoming freshmen sing Britney Spears for shits and giggles.

Bella pledges are there as well, which included Stacie, a new girl named Emily Junk, Terra and Sindy and a bunch of other girls you've never even seen before, but just like you expected, they were all _very_ good looking.

And very tall.

The night continues uneventful; time ticks away and more people are getting drunker by the second, nothing too out of the ordinary there. You, Sober Sally, planned on having maybe a _few_ drinks tonight in celebration of the Bellas' house rush tomorrow afternoon, but decided against it when your hopes got crushed that Beca would actually stop by tonight.

She never gave you the definite answer that she'd stop by tonight; you keeping trying to repeat this to yourself to maybe convince you to be less upset about her not showing, but it doesn't work.

And you're still not having as much fun as you would like to be, all thanks to Beca.

You're still gloomy by the end of the night when you and your sisters are stumbling out of the bar, still grouchy whenever someone pushes your buttons the wrong way, or says something slightly annoying, and you're still bummed by the time you make it home and crash into bed that Beca never showed up.

And you never had your duet together, even after all the planned songs you mustered up in your head on what would be the best to do.

 _Ugh_ , she is so frustrating.

* * *

In effort to alter your mood from last night to this afternoon, the rush is the one to do it for you. So many girls attended- _so many_ and it made your little Bella heart clench with so much happiness to see all your hard work these past few weeks with spreading the news around and scouting out girls not go to waste.

All of the girls who showed up _blew_ you away with their looks, half of them you never even knew attended Barden. Their GPA's weren't the highest on the scale and when you and Aubrey confronted Gail about it while going through all their paperwork, her simple response was "at least they're gorgeous" and all you two could do was gape at what she just said, unable to really go against it.

So, you showed all the new girls the house; the living room where the Bellas usually end up putting on a movie night every Saturday if they weren't too busy at mixers or events. You showed them the series of empty rooms up to grab around the house so they could pick roommates and figure out which one they preferred.

On the plus side of all of them being borderline the most _inarticulate_ , all of the girls pledging were _extremely_ nice. Way nicer than what their presence gave off and almost to the point where it seemed kinda fake.

When the rush is over and certain girls, including Stacie, who has already paid the due, were starting to move into the house, you go up to your room and flop down onto your bed, hoping to take a quick nap before the last minute invite to the mixer that was happening tonight because all the frats got new freshman boys they're anxious to haze the liver out of them.

Gail and Kommisar, _of course_ , say this event is mandatory, though you hardly count getting shit faced drunk and puking all night an event.

But you keep that to yourself and agree to meet them, as well as all your sisters downstairs at eight for a brief pre game and spur of the moment meeting before you girls end up walking over to the house.

Prepared to take a nap before actually getting ready, your phone goes off on the dock where it is playing faint music and when you get up to retrieve it, the number is not saved into your contacts and also, it's a Los Angeles area code.

Who in the world could be texting you from California?

 **[213-344-2343 6:32 PM] You know when you mentioned something about the Bellas being a pretty big deal, I never expected it to be THAT big**

 _[Chloe Beale 6:33PM] Not that I'm disagreeing with you, which Im not, but who is this?_

 **[213-344-2343 6:35 PM] Oh come on, Red. Don't make me say it.**

At the known nickname that only _one_ person calls you, you think you actually with pure joy, as if you just received a phone call from your crush in high school and flail back into your bed, trying to get a hold of your posture.

You also start to list under the empty slots under Beca's name any little information you can get about the girl and now you can mentally pencil in that she is from Los Angeles.

Not judging by any way, shape or form but ideally, aren't the people from California suppose to be rich, beautiful bronze skin, preferably blonde bimbos and maybe the occasional hipster or surfer dude? The only thing Beca fits under is the rich part when taking in the memory of how much money she had inside her wallet at one time.

 _[Chloe Beale 6:36 PM] Well I'll be darned! Is this the one and only, big bad wolf Beca Mitchell?_

 **[213-344-2343 6:38 PM] Guilty**

 _[Chloe Beale 6:39 PM] Thought you didn't have a phone? ;)_

 _[Chloe Beale 6:39 PM] Wanna tell me how you got my number?_

 **[Beca Mitchell 6:41 PM] If I told you, I'd have to kill you**

 _[Chloe Beale 6:42 PM] Of course! Silly me thinking you'd ACTUALLY tell me something instead of keeping it a secret. Something you're an expert at, by the way ;)_

 **[Beca Mitchell 6:42 PM] It's my forte. Where's the fun in having no secrets to keep?**

 _[Chloe Beale 6:43 PM] So I'm guessing if I were to ask why you were watching me today, you'd tell me the same exact thing?_

 **[Beca Mitchell 6:44 PM] Ew. Please try to make it sound less creepy than it actually is.**

 **[Beca Mitchell 6:44 PM] And yes..**

 **[Beca Mitchell 6:45 PM] To answer your question**

 _[Chloe Beale 6:46 PM] You're honestly the worst. Why is it so hard for me to learn about you, get on a friendship level where we share things about each other?_

 _[Chloe Beale 6:46 PM] I'm pretty sure you know my whole life story front to back but I know nothing about you._

 **[Beca Mitchell 6:47 PM] We should keep it that way, Red. I'm not much of an open book.**

 _[Chloe Beale 6:47 PM] UGH! I swear. Trying to get something out from you is like pulling teeth from a child._

 **[Beca Mitchell 6:48 PM] Maybe it's for your own good. I'm not someone you should associate yourself with.**

 _[Chloe Beale 6:49 PM] Then why do you keep coming back? Seems like you at least want to be friends if you keep popping up_

 **[Beca Mitchell 6:50 PM] There's something about you that's intoxicating and I'm unable to pull away from it.**

 **[Beca Mitchell 6:50 PM] Trust me, I've tried to ignore it, ignore you and keep you away from me, but fucking Hell it's impossible.**

 _[Chloe Beale 6:51 PM] Same could be said about you. Why is it that every time I go near you, I feel like I'm breaking all the rules?_

 **[Beca Mitchell 6:52 PM] Because you are**

 _[Chloe Beale 6:53 PM] Oh yeah? How so?_

 **[Beca Mitchell 6:54 PM] I didn't come to Barden to be attracted to someone as much as I am with you.**

Once read in depth, this specific message speeds up your heart rate like a switch to nitrous in a sports car and you think if you were to talk, you'd end up throwing up butterflies with how many it feels like that are swarming your stomach right now.

The feeling is mutual, Mitchell.

But hold the phone.

Did she just mention that there is _**equal attraction**_ floating in the air between you two?!

 _[Chloe Beale 6:55 PM] Why did you come to Barden then? Why is your dad warning you that whatever it is that you're doing is going to end up getting you hurt?_

This response doesn't end up coming in as fast as the other message did and it makes you wonder if maybe you said the wrong thing to Beca. Eventually after a while of telling yourself she isn't going to text back and deciding to get ready instead of taking a nap now that your time to waste is basically gone, she proves you wrong with one lone message.

 **[Beca Mitchell 7:15 PM] Please be safe, Chloe.**

You just stare blankly at the message this time without a response back, though even if you wanted to reply, you wouldn't have anything to say because this was a message you didn't receive often.

And actually, a warning like this is one you _never_ received before.

There hasn't been anymore kidnappings around Barden; Terra and Sindy reappeared from wherever it was that they were hiding so Beca warning you to be safe was odd. This girl has the audacity to tell you what to do but can't even tell you her favorite food to eat or what's her favorite band.

Um, no. That doesn't work around here.

You exit out of your phone without replying to Beca, irritation buzzing from your toes to your ears.

 _God_ , what you would give for just a normal conversation with her without any secrets kept under the covers. Too bad getting through to Beca is like driving a car through a brick wall.

 _Good luck next time, Beale._

* * *

"Okay ladies gather round," Gail announces at the head of the long kitchen table, wine glass in hand and held high up in the air.

You and your sisters just got done getting ready for tonight's mixer at Theta Chi's house (Trebles) who happen to be the ones hosting and it has been declared mandatory for the Bellas to attend.

After another shower because you can't go wrong with being _extra_ clean and the heat really massages your tensed muscles after always talking to Beca, you had to choose an outfit. Not really a thing you have much trouble with, but your whole get up took about _three_ times as long as you couldn't settle on the perfect outfit to wear tonight.

And maybe it was because there was a very _slim_ chance of Beca showing up there, though you highly doubt it because the girl lives in the forest or somewhere unknown in the shadows.

But if she does happen to be at the house party, you'd at least give the girl a whirl and show her exactly what she is missing out on.

Childish, you know.

But Beca drives you absolutely _wild_ and things that use to make sense don't anymore and she's complicated, but simple at the same time and _ugh_!

You just don't understand her.

A long sleeve maroon crop top meets your standards, along with a black high waisted skirt and matching heeled boots to add to your level of hotness and _not to brag or anything_ , but you look damn good tonight.

Aubrey curls your hair loosely while Stacie takes on the make up part of your look now that the new chosen Bellas have all officially moved in this afternoon.

Hair done to perfection, as well as make up, Stacie rearranges your top, exposing more cleavage than you would ever walk out of the house with, but it fits the look you're going with, knowing Beca would be out of her damn mind if she weren't stricken by anything that you were wearing, or _showing_.

After a few shared "you look so hot, Chloe!" around the house as you make a grand appearance into the kitchen, you know that your outfit is complete and ready to _wow_ Beca if you run into her tonight.

Hopefully you do.

You're **praying** that you do.

In reality once all your sisters make it downstairs to form a oval shape around the long dining room table, you note that every single one of them looks absolutely _jaw dropping_. Stacie looks like a goddamn Victoria's Secret model with a tiny navy blue cocktail dress and her long legs sitting on top of black high heels are just sinful to look at.

Even Aubrey, who is basically a Catholic, schoolgirl nun, added a little _spice_ to her outfit, causing you to not only stare at the amount of skin she is showing off in that tiny, lacy black dress she is wearing, but also to gape at because it was like watching a dog walk on its hind legs.

Jessica looks hot.

Ashley looks hot.

Lilly looks hot

Terra and Sindy look hot, especially in tight revealing clothes rather than athletic gear, though the tight small spandex they wore for volleyball was another story.

In conclusion, everyone in the house looks _hot_.

You stand close to Aubrey, hooking your arm in between hers and bouncing with excitement once it has finally caught up to you. All the girls seem to be glowing with this same eager behavior to hit the streets of Barden; the first night the new and improved Bellas are all together. It's exciting thinking about the bonding that's going to occur tonight with all the new girls, though there's a tickle in your gut that makes you think the opposite.

"Ladies, this is our first night out together and we want it to be special for each and every one of you." Gail and Kommissar are at the far end of the table, surrounded by about forty other Bellas, including you and Aubrey who wait anxiously for their little speech. They are dressed formal, _way_ formal than you have ever seen them dress in these few short days living with them.

Of course, they still flaunt the black colors like it's the only thing they own, which reminds you of a _certain_ human being that permanently makes your head ache.

A selfie stick goes around the group to whoever has the best angle to get everyone in one picture and you catch Gail and Kommissar avoiding the camera like the plague, which is quite odd. When there's a good enough picture of all the Bellas to post on every social media known to man, as well as their website on Barden's homepage, a giant pot of red liquid gets set on top of the table.

You watch Kommissar hand out individual shot glasses that sit on a silver tray to each girl around the table, regardless of their age, something which Roxy took to heart when one of her daughters was under age and drinking an alcoholic beverage. They still ended up drinking at parties, which everyone in college eventually does, but in her house, underage drinking was prohibited.

You take a whiff of the drink because at first sight, you thought it was blood by the dark maroon color it gave and how thick it was when Gail poured the drinks into the glasses. Nose to the cup, you don't smell anything wrong with it at first but when you dip your tongue in for a taste test, it almost comes right back up.

"Oh God!" You cough and sputter the liquid off your tongue and you receive everyone's attention on you by the sudden outburst. "That is _foul_!"

"Now Chloe haven't you been taught manners and to wait for your sisters? We do have to say our cheers before drinking," Komisssar's tone is sickly annoying to you and same with that creepy grin she flaunts more times than not.

You want to roll your eyes and show just how annoyed you actually are, but a hunch or something deep in your gut tells you that'd be the wrong choice to go about things.

"Everyone raise your glass."

Like little martians, or robots controlled by a single remote, each girl holds up the shot of red liquid, patiently waiting for further orders.

You on the other hand lift your drink up, but do it after slight hesitation when Gail and Kommissar both scowl you until it's fully raised. You don't know what it is since you're always up for trying new alcohol, but this one you can't help be feel a little _ify_ on taking.

"This is a little something I made with my sister, it's our specialty drink," Gail informs the group.

You snort under your breath; the drink is pure rubbish if someone were to ask you. Should be illegal how God awful it tastes, too.

"Here's to the night, a start of a new beginning for all of us. Things are only getting started here at the Bellas' household." Gail and Kommissar both eye each other, creepy grins mirroring one another.

All the girls cheer and clink their shot glasses to the table before downing the drink in one swallow. Everyone's reaction when the drink is fully gone is the exact same as yours previously and you can't even imagine how bad it tastes with how much they all just drank.

You just dipped the tip of your tongue in and thought you were going to die, so watching this only made you gag.

Coughing fits go around the table, and Stacie even pats Aubrey on the back, rubbing soothing circles to help her get the drink down. You still have the full shot in your hand, still raised awkwardly up in the air and when everyone catches this, they eye you until they're eating you alive, forcing you to swallow the shot with a few more gags along the way.

 _Jesus, that was gross._

It felt like your were getting re-initiated into the Bellas again, just like you had to do freshman year. You thought that period in your life was over.

Guess not.

Wiping your mouth with the forearm area of your shirt to get rid of any liquid you failed to get into your mouth, you take a look at Emily Junk, a new freshman Bella who is as innocent and pure as innocent and pure can get reacting negatively to the drink itself. Chances are that was the first alcoholic beverage the girl ever had in her own two hands and the shot alone was stronger than anything you've tasted before.

You can only imagine how fast it will catch up to a newbie like Emily, even though she is twice your size and has legs that come in second place compared to Stacie's.

"You good, Em?" You make your way around the table to the freshman who is hunched over, two hands firmly placed on the wooden table and hair draped like a sheet over both sides of her face. By the looks of it and how she is trying to shake the nastiness away from her taste buds, you can take a rough guess and assume she isn't doing so hot.

She lifts her head from the table as your hands rub soothing circles on her lower back and she tosses you one of her cheeky grins, despite the paleness coating her face and glossy watery eyes.

You're begging that she doesn't throw up on you. **Begging**.

" _That_... _was_... _disgusting_." She points to the now empty shot glass on the table and you can't help but to giggle at such a precious soul.

"Okay!" Gail claps her hands excitedly, taking all of the shot glasses away from the table and throwing them into the sink. Guess you girls are only _one and doneing it_ as far as pre gaming. "You girls have fun tonight and be safe!"

You and Aubrey lead the pack out of the house, ready to party and enjoy the first night together as a big, brand new sisterhood. You are also pretty stoked to get out of the Bellas, because you love the place more than life, but the atmosphere there now is uncomfortable and you blame Gail and Kommissar.

The party is on full blast by the time you girls get there, which is around eleven thirty. Cars are lined up along the street, music is heard booming from the house and there's so many people there it looks impossible to even squeeze in. With valuable practice, you make it into the house where there is a little more space in the backyard of the house compared to inside and also a spot where it's less humid and sticky from everyone's body heat.

"We have to get on the table for beer pong!" Aubrey announces, pointing into the house where the table is set up.

Beer pong is like your secret talent that you only just realized you had a major talent for shooting ping pong balls into cups once you made it to college. Plus, Aubrey is like the _best_ partner to have because the more drunk she gets, the more cups she is able to make, which is like, _backwards_.

And seeing where she is at now with her levels of intoxication, you can tell you guys are going to _dominate_ of the table.

So, you only agree to this, wanting to see the looks on all those college boys faces when they get their asses handed to them by a couple of Bellas.

Aubrey's by your side most of the night after holding the crown at the beer pong table, until Stacie uses her charm to pull Aubrey away somewhere inside the house party, leaving you outside to talk to all your friends. All the Bellas seem more _promiscuous_ than they usually come off with and they didn't waste anytime before scouting any open guy at the party to work their charm with.

Which is _bizarre_.

Saying your "hellos" around the house, you see Emily with one of the Trebles, Benji, who looks like he is worshiping Emily as if she's sitting on top of a pedestal. She has this whole alpha female thing going on, touching his arm seductively, laughing into his ear and basically conjoined at his side, which you aren't too familiar with because back at the house, it looked like Emily couldn't even hurt a fly without wailing.

Whatever.

She's having fun and that's all you really want to see your sisters doing.

Moving along, you see Lilly with Donald, another Treble, and see Ashley talking to this one guy who you're not really acquainted with but you think he plays on the soccer team. Terra and Sindy are talking to the twins, Dax and Rex, almost equally as seducing as Emily was with Benji, maybe even _more_.

And same with Lilly and Ashley.

" _Okay, that's odd,"_ you think to yourself, confused about the whole new front all your friends have when it comes to the... _male species._ As you're walking away from the show Terra and Sindy are performing with the twin boys, you catch a face of another familiar Bella.

"Jessica!" You yell above the music, pushing your way through the crowd to meet her at the bottom of the stairs where she is all over this one guy whose name is Jason. He was in your Biology class last year-that's the only reason you know of his name. He's an average looking fellow, nothing too _wow,_ but nothing too **meh,** either.

He just fits right in the middle.

Compared to Jake, however, him and his looks are so low on the totem pole that he's pratically non existent.

"What are you doing?!" You only ask this because Jessica has a boyfriend and how she is acting right now with Jason while her arm slides up and down his arm and are talking to each other in such a close distance that nobody, who wasn't single, would be talking in.

Jessica giggles madly and you only raise our brows up to your hairline suspiciously because it sounds a lot faker and more high pitched than what her usual laugh sounds like. Maybe she's a lot drunker than you thought, which wouldn't make sense because they **literally** just got to the party.

"I'm talking to Jason," she informs you with a sloppily wide smile and Jason and his drunk ass only smiles dopey your way, eyes glazed over and you know that she is talking to Jason.

You can see it with your own two eyes.

Your main question is _why_?

"Isn't he a cutie?" Jess then reaches up to pinch his cheek for you to see, continuing to giggle in that disgusting way and leans up to whisper something in his ear that makes him visibly quiver.

"What about Jake?!" The music is blasting inside the house so yelling this is your only option. Also, avoiding to pay attention at the gross baby noises she is cooing into the ear of this twenty two year old

"He's like a billion miles away, Chlo!" Jess whines, purposely moving her hand down Jason's chest and stomach, all the way until her fingers hit his belt buckle on his jeans and you feel really uncomfortable watching the action. "I just wanna have fun." Jess smirks mischievously and adds a wink that just doesn't make you feel right inside. You try to advert your eyes away from the danger zone Jess's hand is descending but it's extremely distracting. "Don't you?"

Was this fun to her? Cheating on her boyfriend of three years for some guy who is in dummy classes and isn't even starting wide receiver for Barden's football team? Jess is the most loyal person you know, especially to Jake, who she'd bend over backwards for because she loves him just _that_ much.

You met him tons of times throughout the three, blissful years spent with Jess and each time, their relationship would be something you envied. He is smart, athletic, has a sense of humor and can make her laugh, like, _all the time._

Never would you think the girl with so much dignity would fall to such a low level because her boyfriend may be going to school a few states away from her, dropping everything and anything they've been through along the way.

And thinking Jess would even think about doing this to her boyfriend has to be the _strangest_ part of it all.

Before you can even answer, Jess and Jake are leaving hand in hand, moving up the stairs to the high level of the Treble's house, leaving you standing dumbfounded at the lower level while people dance and move around you.

Something does not feel right; there's a weird vibe you're feeling being here right now and watching your sisters, even the new ones, hunt boys down like a pack of wolves and it's the only thing they came here to do.

The breaking point to your sanity comes when you finally catch sight of Aubrey, who is straddling Stacie's thighs next to another senior at Barden, Mark, who are all three engaging in a very _inappropriate_ , very x-rated, three way make out session on the couch.

You want to go over and make sure Aubrey is okay because what she is doing right now is something she wouldn't be caught doing, dead or alive, and would even be _appalled_ at herself for participating in such activities.

But getting any closer to that scene will toss and turn your stomach in a way that wouldn't be able to keep your dinner down.

It is one big orgy on the couch and you honestly can't believe your best friend of three years is actually caught in the middle of it.

 **Alcohol**.

You need alcohol if you're going to make it through this night alive.

Walking back into the kitchen, you stop short when you get shoulder checked by someone else walking by, knocking you almost off your feet by the force. Not one to yell at someone to watch where they're going, but not really being in the _mood_ to deal with anyone's shit with how tonight's events are turning out, you're about to say something until those navy blue eyes and lazy half smirk swallow up all your words.

"Watch it, Red."

It's Beca. _Oh my God,_ Beca is actually here right now and her voice is low, and deep, a lot deeper than what you've been familiar with and she is wearing a navy blue tank top underneath her jacket this time instead of her usual black on black on black attire.

"You're going to get yourself hurt running into people like that."

You sober up as best as you can, straightening your posture and nonchalantly flaunting off the outfit you're wearing while also trying not to get sucked in the black hole of how much cleavage Beca's tank top is blessing you with.

Like intended, Beca's eyes scan from your head to your toes, and you can't help but savor the way she is soaking in your outfit, curving a crooked half smile when she finally returns to your eyes. But she only ends up tearing her eyes away with a blank poker face that soon washed away that playful smirk you came to love so much, saying nothing at all.

"Chloe dear," Unable to fully be bummed about the lack of response you were hoping to get from Beca, Gail pulls you by the arm, tugging you a bit aways from Beca and just hold on one second…. _why in the world is Gail here?_

 _How and when did she get here is the real question._

"I hope you're having fun this evening." She grins brightly and it still has that spooky chill it did the first day you saw it. Beca is still besides you, standing awkwardly and listening in on what Gail has to say, but she's giving off of tensions you study from her body language. "There's this cute Tom boy who is looking for you in the kitchen. I think the two of you would make an _adorable_ couple."

"We were actually talking," Beca intervenes and you don't miss the bark in her tone directed to Gail, but you have no idea why she is so bent about this and more especially, to your house mother.

There's a dead silence between the two of them where only staring coldly is how they are responding to one another and you could basically cut the tension with your pinky nail if wanting to.

Gail is first to break the silence, "My apologies." She curves up a smaller smile compared to the one you were granted with but still equally as chilling.

Beca nods her head faintly, face still stone cold and emotionless as ever.

"You look familiar," Gail says as she taps her chin with a finger, studying the freshmen as she squints her eyes in Beca's direction, who really couldn't care any less about this little bit of information and for a moment, you think they forget that you're even there with them. "Anyways," Gail says, shaking her head. "I'll tell Tom you'll catch up with him later."

You really want to decline to this because even though Tom is a super sweet kid and you've known each other for most of college and even fooled around a little bit here and there, you don't want anything to do with him.

Now _especially_ with Beca being at the same party as you.

But before you can tell Gail this, she is gone, walking out of the house where you see Kommissar patiently waiting out front all by herself.

"Sorry about that." You turn to face Beca whose body language begins to unstiffen, but there is still something _off_ about her tonight. "I didn't really think they'd be here," you chuckle, rubbing the back of your neck, not really sure if you should be embarrassed or concerned.

"Yeah," Beca breathes this out, eyes focused on the doors where Gail walked through. "There's a lot you don't know about them."

 _Um, what?_

These little half hint things are seriously starting to piss you off.

"What do you mean?" You ask curiously, but of course, Beca doesn't give a clear answer, and actually doesn't even acknowledge your question in the first place.

This time when she bails on you, a goodbye isn't even exchanged before she is walking away from you, without so much of a _look_ back over her shoulders. You want to scream and pull your hair out by the scalp because Beca Mitchell is going to be the death of you, but she is so sexy you can't even be that mad at her.

You march to the kitchen, upset at Beca for her lack of communication and also extremely disappointed that she didn't even want to hang out with you tonight, or at the very least compliment your outfit you worked so hard on to impress her. Alcohol, as you remember, is calling your name and now you have a valid reason why to down a couple shots, which has the name _Beca Mitchell_ written all over.

Your cell phone vibrates in your bra where you keep it because the skirt you're wearing has zero pockets on it and when you pull it out to read, Beca's name lights up on the screen.

 **[Beca Mitchell 11:30 PM] You look beautiful tonight, by the way.**

The smile that you're sporting while reading this message from a girl who only gives you daily headaches is uncharacteristic, and that's saying a lot because you're pretty sure you came out of the womb with a megawatt smile on your face.

She _did_ notice your outfit.

And you can't help but melt at her compliment, though you've already been told this several times tonight since the moment you stepped foot in the house.

Difference was, however, being called beautiful wasn't directly from Beca and because this time it was, you've been utterly _wrecked_ by the freshman.

You're in so much trouble with this girl it's not even funny anymore.

* * *

You're drunk.

So drunk that you're half certain that you've only been at this party for not even a full hour and already, the room is spinning, your weight can barely be held up and you're seeing three of everybody in sight. It doesn't make sense either, because even though you said alcohol had your name written all over it, Beca's text distracted you from your path to the kitchen and ended up not making any drink whatsoever.

But here you are on the back porch, sagging around like you just chugged an entire bottle of the strongest liquor on the shelf and then some by yourself, feeling the most drunk you have ever felt before in your entire life.

Aubrey is long gone, as well as Stacie, who apparently is looking after her, so you're praying to God that she is taking good care of your best friend. Jessica and Ashley are also MIA, same with Lily, Terra, Sindy and all your other sisters, who for a brief moment, were all in the same room before you all got disbursed and they seeked out the closest eye candy they could spot.

Without thinking, really, because your brain and your good decision filter with common sense is _long_ gone out the window, you pull out your cell phone, eyes desperately trying to focus on the letters and digits on the brightly lit screen, but the reflective blur from the alcohol and level of intoxication is way too strong to oversee. Scrolling up and down through your contact list, your thumb (hopefully) lands on Beca's name, opening up the previous message you guys left on yesterday evening before you start aimlessly typing.

 _[Chloe Beale 12:03 AM] Where r u?_

 _[Chloe Beale 12:03 AM] I realllllly want talk tou u_

Each finger feels like an iron rod trying to type these messages out and it's no help that you're unable to focus clearly on the screen, all the letter on the keyboard just clustering to blend together. " _Send_ " is the one button you can fully read through your drunk goggles and without thinking about it first, you press the button, watching the message float up until the little "delivered" sign is at the bottom.

Drunk texting has never been your thing, though you can't sit here and believe you're actually drunk after only having one drink back at the Bellas. You know you're a semi light weight compared to the other girls, but _JESUS_ , not this much of a light weight.

Plus, seeing Beca sounds _amazing_ right now and maybe it will give you some handy liquid courage around her that you so desperately need.

Before you can even anxiously wait for a response from Beca, which you were planning on doing because the physical _need_ to see the girl is at an all time high, you catch that same leather jacket weaving her way through the crowd in the house.

You stand up from the lawn chair you've been crashing at for God knows how long, head heavy, eyes heavy and droopy and your body feels like you've been cemented to the ground.

Once you've gain enough balance to start walking again (you really wish you weren't in heels right now because flats would be a Hell of a lot easier) you follow the same path Beca took in the house, dodging the people who are engaging in porn star like grinding to the hottest hip hop tracks, part of you might actually believing they're having sex on the dance floor right now and eventually, you end up at the front of the house.

With a clear shot, you can see in the distance pass all the parked cars and street lights the freshman taking off into the woods nearby the Treble's house, walking as skeptical as ever.

This is your shot to see what this girl is up to so late at night and like Hell are you going to waste this opportunity.

Moving your feet, you drag yourself down the same path Beca took, quietly following her from behind and hoping not to alarm that you're stalking her.

You end up losing Beca moments into following her into the forest, all your hard work going to waste because the ground is moving in a way that makes your stomach churn. You're also still wearing heeled boots that feel like you're walking on two Eiffel Towers, so keeping up to Beca, who is basically _power_ walking is borderline impossible.

And even though Beca has disappeared somewhere inside, your drunk ass continues walking into the _super_ scary and _super_ dark forest without so much of a care to all the signs that scream out in bold letters " **turn the Hell around."**

You stumble your way around the forest, heels crunching on the dead leaves and twigs lying around the path you've decided to follow. It's becomes darker the farther you go in and the only light you have is the one on your phone, which does about nothing for allowing you to see around the woods.

Why you decided to adventure by yourself out in the middle of some creepy, deserted forest while also being trashed off of only one alcoholic beverage (that still doesn't make any sense) is so far beyond you.

And you hit a point when you fall deep enough inside the forest that you no longer know where you're even at anymore when you _**really**_ regret your decision to walk in alone.

You spin in circles to try and navigate your way out of these woods; the spooky chill and silence around the area is freaking you out. Retracing your steps would be the first step in getting back to Barden...if you had any idea which way you came in from, _of course_.

Which you don't.

And now you're starting to freak out because the longer you're stranded in this forest, _alone_ , the scarier it becomes, so you plan on calling Aubrey, or even Gail and Komissar to come pick you up wherever it is that you are.

Luckily for you, your phone dies just before you're about to dial Aubrey's number and now, you have _no_ light to brighten up the forest that is surrounding you by pitch black darkness and _no_ directions on how to get out of this place.

But instead of screaming or panicking that you'll be lost inside _forever_ until you die of starvation, or something equally as bad, your vision begins to spin and you can barely keep yourself up on two feet with your lack of balance and your mouth feels like sand paper.

"What the Hell is happening to me?" You mutter this to yourself, using both hands to grip at your head to help with the spinning. Being drunk isn't anything new to you; you've felt it way more times than you can count on one hand, thanks to #collegelife.

But this and how you feel now is **nothing** compared to those other times when you've given yourself a little too much to drink.

"Chloe?!"

You perk up hearing this voice cut through the silence of the forest and there's a bright flashlight shining at you in the distance.

"What the fuck are you doing here?!"

Although you can't really focus on anything with the entire world spinning and the blinding bright light pointed your way that's causing you to squint, you recognize that voice. You have fantasies about that voice and anything else unhealthy.

 _Hell_ , you would be able to recognized that intoxicating voice from a million miles away.

"Beca!" you slur her name, standing up straight while the light gets pointed down into the ground and it's exactly who you expected it to be. You buzz with this electrical, giddy feeling when you see it's the freshman, the same girl you've been wanting to talk to all night. "You found me!" you gush some more, slur some more and Beca runs up to you, taking you by the waist with her strong hold and all of a sudden the skin underneath where her hand touches your skin is on **fire**.

Beca groans when you lose all the strength in your legs and collapse into her embrace-that also happens to be very sturdy and _very_ warm and _holy cow,_ this girl is strong. "Jesus Christ, Chloe. What are you doing out here? _Alone_ , I might add."

"Looking for you, silly!" You don't really know why this is so damn funny to cause you to giggle like a complete maniac into the side of Beca's face. "You won't...you won't tell me _anything_ about you so...so I-I came out here to see for myself!" You pout into Beca's neck, personal space non existent for you at this point, but it allows you to get a good whiff of Beca's shampoo that she uses, strawberry you guess, and it smells absolutely _heavenly_.

"What did you have to drink?" Beca cranes her neck as far away as possible from where your face is, moving her feet and dragging your dead weight body along with her. Soon, you're startled and blinded by her light to the eyes and you viciously try to avoid the brightness by turning your head away. "Your eyes are bloodshot."

" _One_ drink." You hold up a finger for Beca to see, just in case she didn't hear you. "I only had _one_ and that was at the Bellas'. It was _horrible_ and just a lil baby shot," your voice shifts to your high pitched, drunken Chloe tone and you pinch your index finger and thumb, estimating the size of the drink. "But I only had _one_ ," you explain and it kind of sucks because you honestly don't want Beca to see you like this. To see you this plastered after only one drink and you can't even hold yourself up.

That's on another level of embarrassment and you don't want Beca to be disappointed.

Beca uses her free hand to pinch at the bridge of her nose, then looks upwards, begging for some much needed strength. "What the Hell did those bitches give you?"

You gasp at the vulgar choice of language, though you don't really know who she is referring to and also, why she is calling them a bitch. " _Whoa_! Who are you talking about? And why is it so... _sexy_ hearing such dirty words come out from your mouth?"

Understatement.

Boy isn't this an **understatement**.

Cussing isn't much of your style, though occasionally you decide to get colorful with your words, but it's not often. Nothing against anyone who cusses; it's just something you don't feel comfortable doing, but Beca and her sailor mouth really turns you on, to say the least.

Especially now when you're a complete drunken mess and the words vibrate you from the inside out.

Avoiding your question like the pro she truly is, "You shouldn't be here right now, Chlo," Beca grumbles under her breath as she uses all her strength to keep you up and you literally sigh out loud at the cute little nickname she just called you.

But then like a switch, you get angry and for some reason you remember how secretive Beca is being with you.

Yet _somehow_ she still cares about you?

"Why won't you tell me what you do so late at night?" You gain enough of your strength back to push Beca away aggressively and stand on your own. There's only a slight wobble in your legs, but you're able to stand up straight on your heels.

She arches a brow up and looks taken back by the sudden movement, but her shock is only temporary before she starts to scan the entire forest with her flashlight, which by the way is connected to yet _another_ gun, this one much larger than the other one.

"Is that a _shot gun_?" You point a shaky finger accusingly at the weapon Beca's holding out in front of her, your answer already out in the clear for you to gawk at.

"You know the name of a shotgun, but you don't know what a Desert Eagle is?"

You stop in place, crossing your arms above your chest while your mood does a complete three sixty and you feel all the pent up rage hit you at once. " _Actually_ , I know that difference between a _tiny_ gun and a _big_ freaking gun, Beca!" Stomping your foot down, Beca doesn't even take the time out to a glance at you from where you stand behind.

"You're dark and mysterious, you have a wallet filled with so much money the word "bank" should be written on your forehead. You carry weapons on you like a normal person would carry a cell phone. Also, you can use them pretty _expertly_ as well and you sneak out late at night to roam a super creepy forest!" You trail off, listing anything out of the ordinary you can think of that Beca does. "I think I know what you are."

Beca visibly tenses. "If you say vampire I _swear to God_ I think I'm going to shoot you," she quickly cuts you off, giving you that warning glare that is one not to be tested.

And though that's _exactly_ what you were going to say before she interrupted, you have no time to say anything else before the sound of twigs breaking alters both you and Beca and she's shining her light in the general direction of where the noise came from.

It's quiet once again; nothing but a few crickets chirping and the sound of an owl nearby, but Beca is being extremely cautious, almost to the point where you don't even think she's breathing in effort to stay quiet.

You open your mouth to say something, but she hastily slaps a hand over, shushing you instantly as she keeps her eyes fixated at the dark opening of the forest where her light is shining.

Keeping your head up becomes impossible with the sudden weight it has gained and you begin to sway back and forth as the alcohol hits you full blast.

"Beca," you whine out, _so_ drunk and _so_ needy that Beca turns around so fast to shine her flashlight at you, but her features on her face morph from irritated to frightened in the matter of seconds.

Catching this sudden change in expressions, you angle your head to the side to see what exactly has Beca so uptight about and what you're greeted with is a woman it looks like through blurred vision, but a woman so…. _hideous_ and veiny and ghostly white that she doesn't even look human.

And the piercing cackle that this woman erupts with before reaching into the ground to grab what looks like a giant black broom to straddle and hover mid air is the tipping point of being inhuman.

 _HOLY SHIT she is flying!_

"Chloe, get down!"

You hear Beca yelling at you, but right now you're so drunk and so terrifyingly amazed at what you're looking at to even process what's going on right now and slightly hypnotized by these two glowing red orbs staring straight through your soul.

Next thing is the woman is hissing a _monstrous_ roar at you, her face transforming into something so disgusting and reptile like that it knocks you straight down to your butt. She is holding a glowing stick or a type of wand up in the air, the tip of it glowing in all different colors and she's screeching something definitely not in the English dictionary at you with venom spitting out of her mouth like a rabid dog or snake.

Then in a blink of an eye, you hear Beca's shotgun go off loudly from behind you and when you flinch from the noise, you are gifted with this nasty smelling black gunk all over your body from where this woman's head basically exploded right in front of you

And now you honestly feel sick to your stomach when you watch that same body dressed in a long black gown tip sideways into the ground without any structure of the head on top.

Beca sprints up beside you, throwing her gun to the side and grabbing you by the cheeks to look her dead in the eyes. Your vision is going in and out and there's a constant buzzing ring in both your ears to prevent you from hearing anything Beca has to say, but you can tell by the veins in her neck that she is yelling.

The snapping and waving fingers in front of your face doesn't do much help because you feel your consciousness fading in and out and you're still unable to move any part of your body due to the shock after witnessing what you just saw.

Everything's mute, but you can read Beca's lips and she is pointing in the direction where her car is parked and you think she is screaming that you guys need to get out of here.

But your head is fuzzy, vision is blurry and you feel cemented into the ground, so moving is out of the options.

Eyes start to shut on their own, but a light smack to the cheek snaps them back open and Beca looks for the first time since you've known her _worried_ , and at literally any other time besides right now, you'd be elated to see her caring so much about your wellbeing.

However, this time right now as the ringing in your ears become louder and louder and how the spinning going on in your eyesight just doesn't seem to be stopping, along with the blurry pictures everywhere you look, there's more important things to be thinking about.

There are sounds of more shooting going on and Beca is no longer by your side, but you have zero strength to look up from where you are laying in the cold surface of the forest.

And you feel your body lifting up from the ground once the shooting stops and you can still smell the funky odor this black stuff all over you is giving off, only adding to how nauseous you already feel.

Beca's covered in it, too, you examine with one eye just barely opened enough to catch the droplets along her still perfectly sculpted face and jaw line. She's carrying you somewhere and it would be extremely impressive when taking in her size and height, but your mouth feels glued shut to even comment and those steely blue eyes looking down at you with so much concern is the last thing you see before the entire world goes black.

* * *

 **GAH!**

 **I know you guys are probably thinking what the H is going on right now, but all that will be answered next chap ;)**


	5. Chapter 5

**Long chap my people. Full of explanation of what the hell is going on so, enjoy!**

 **(I DO NOT OWN PITCH PERFECT)**

* * *

 **Chapter Five: You're Such a Witch**

" _Chloe?"_

The voice is hard to hear, muffled and to an extent, fuzzy, sounding a lot like treble on a broken T.V. Your eyes are also extremely heavy, making it near impossible to open them up to greet this voice-which is heavenly, by the way. When you do eventually find the strength to crack them open, you find yourself alone.

Searching everywhere and using the rest of the strength you could find in your beat up body, your eyes gradually slide open, farther and farther.

It's bright, _very_ bright wherever you are. There's fully grown and fully bloomed trees, with exotic purple and pink flowers flooding at the foot of their trunks, surrounding you in dome wise. The grass you've been laying on is _way_ too comfortable, a lively green color and trimmed to be Barden's grass, especially since the last thing you could remember before blacking out was venturing out into the foggy, creepy forest where it's _definitely_ not as majestic as the one you're stuck in now.

You scratch your head at that, scrunching your nose in confusion while flinching abruptly when nails dig into a sensitive spot located on the back of your skull. Huh, must be the area that took most the impact when you passed out. Hopefully this raging headache and lack of memory as to what happened before isn't early signs of a concussion. That would literally be the cherry on top.

" _Chloe, hey."_

The voice is back without a presence and did you already mention how beautiful it is?

With only minor struggle, you are able to lift your body up from the ground, run a hand through your hair, which is so ratted up in a tangled knot that you would've assumed your hand would get lost inside such a horrid nest. Squinting your eyes around the perimeter, holding a hand above your eyes to block some of the brightness, you try looking for the unannounced guest with an angelic voice, but what it looks like is that you're alone.

And probably going crazy, because not only are you hearing voices, there aren't even any animals and insects bugging you-which you know for a fact and experince that they would be.

" _Hey, you're okay."_

Yeah, most definitely going crazy right now. _Great_ , not only does your entire body ache-your head more so than anything, now you're stranded in some random but beautiful forest that looks like one out of a Twilight novel (minus the vampires, of course) and are hearing strange, soothing voices without a body to put them to.

You need to get out of here before you go insane, but what you didn't put the pieces to the puzzle to is how hard it is to stand up after laying down for so long. Legs are weak and the bones inside feel basically brittle to even put the faintest of weight on them. You keep trying though, using momentum to swing your whole body forward until you've got your feet planted to the ground underneath and can gradually stand up straight.

Now once that part is done, hair in the face, breathing heavy and all, walking is an even harder task than getting up and you're feeling like you look identical to a baby giraffe trying to walk for the first time.

 _Jesus_ , what the Hell happened to you?

Suddenly as you stumble about a couple feet from where you previously were, two strong hands grab at your waist and guide you towards a mysterious opening in a large tree that forsure wasn't there before.

" _Easy Killer."_

Now with the voice coming out more clear and most definitely closer than before, you're hit all at once with who it could possibly be. Snapping your head to the side so fast, _way_ faster than any of your other movements you've made in the past couple minutes, your eyes land on two, mesmerizing, steely blues and just like that, your legs give out, sending you falling straight into the grass.

But before you could fall face first and probably end up with a bloody nose from the forceful impact and _insane_ amount of gracefulness, the hands gripped at your waist, secure, safe and strong, tighten around and pull you forward to keep you from doing so.

" _Whoa slow down, Red."_

Gaining your footing back after only minor stumbling from the balls of your feet to your heels, you stop all your movements and turn to face Beca, wide eyed and jaw dropped to your chest.

"It's...you." Of course, it clicks after saying this that the whole reason you went into the forest was to catch what she could possibly be doing so late at night.

" _It's me,"_ Beca replies in her usual sarcastic, but charming manner, with that half smile brighter than this entire forest and actually, brighter than you have ever seen the girl radiate before.

It is quite odd, if you're being completely honest.

She's in different clothes than what you could remember her wardrobe being. In fact, she's in all white; skinny jeans, sneakers and a silky blouse that you would've bet your life that Beca wouldn't be caught wearing. Her hair is pencil straight, unlike her natural wavy look and it grew at least an inch in length.

Make up is on the lighter side of things, making her eyes _pop_ that much more and all her piercings in her ears are gone, not that you're much of a fan of this, because in all honesty, no matter what Aubrey thinks of them, you enjoy Beca's _ear monstrosities._

Like _, a lot a lot._

You pause your admiration from everything _godly_ Beca is and speak again, voice all of a sudden hoarse and mouth drier than the Sahara desert. "Where... _are_ we?"

" _Don't worry about that,"_ Beca hushes you quiet, throwing a finger over your lips to keep you from saying any more. Her smile stretches in an abnormal size and it's almost uncharacteristic of her to be smiling this wide. " _It's just you and me, alone in this forest, with nobody to bother us,"_ she purrs out seductively, stepping in closer to you and you feel your knees tremble at the lack of space between you two. " _No one to intrude on what I'm about to do."_

Okay, this is _odd_ , even though you are digging this amount of closeness; Beca's soothing hands around your hips and that heavenly smell of her natural scent.

Although the close proximity is something you're enjoying a little too much, this new, overly bright and happy Beca is kind of a buzz kill.

You miss your normal Beca where you'd be the one over smiling and annoying her to the core of her sanity. The grouchiness, the snarky remarks and the infamous eye rolls after everything you say.

And _good Lord_ that killer smirk of her's.

 _God_ , just thinking about all those things makes your heart race like a humming bird's wings.

Where were all _those_ sexy things about the freshman that hooked you in the first encounter?

Before you can even ask what's going on with Beca's sudden personality change, the sun quickly hides behind a newly darkened clouds, blacking out the forest completely and everything around you transforms into the look of death. The trees begin to lose their leaves and droop into those creepy ones that Barden has. The green grass fades to a rusty brown color and there's an eerie chill that shivers down your spine.

"What's going on?" You ask, watching the whole forest die right before your eyes.

Beca doesn't answer, and you're about to repeat the question, this time looking at her instead of the forest, but when you turn to look at her, there's an oozing maroon red liquid pouring out from her white blouse, just under her left breast and where her heart would be, spilling down her jeans and onto her bleach white sneakers.

"Oh my God!" You screech seeing the amount of blood coming out from Beca and you feel your eyes welling with tears to release because you have no idea what to do to help.

So, you frantically grip your hair, yelling out to literally _nobody_ in the forest to come and help. When did Beca exactly get hurt? How did she even get hurt?

Literally, she was fine moments ago when you two were talking, but of course, that was when the scenery didn't look like one out of a scary movie and instead looked like something magical you'd see on travel brochures

"Beca, I'll find you help!" You assure, panicked, looking around the forest to find _anything_ that could stop the bleeding like you were some kind of Goddamn witch doctor.

Even knowing how to stitch somebody up would be fabulous right now, but knowing your fears, the sight of blood is one of them and you stayed as far away as possible when anyone was hurt.

Tears are also present by this point with the thought of not having much time before something bad happens to Beca with the amount of blood she is losing.

She is smiling still, however, which makes you pause from your chaotic, frantic movements because that was an expression a person definitely wouldn't make while blood was oozing out from them or even the slightest bit injured.

And now that you think about it and are able to look closely, there isn't even an injury on Beca's body to be producing so much blood.

And you're not a doctor or anything, but you know for a fact that if a person lost this much blood in real life, they'd be dead in the matter of seconds.

Beca erupts with a piercing cackle next, her mouth and teeth layered with blood, making you jump backwards and fall to the ground by the sudden sound.

You look down to your hands as you scramble backwards on your butt, now realizing that something is not right with Beca and it's gotten to the point where you're actually, for the first time, terrified to be around her and what you see is blood covering the front of your jeans and jacket.

Even your hands are covered in blood.

 _Beca's_ blood.

While you're laying horrified at Beca's maniac screeches, planning the quickest escape route out of the forest, a woman dressed in all black emerges from the ground like a corpse; crooked creepy broom in her right hand and pointy black hat hovering her shadowed face.

Another cackles rings your ears, but this time, it isn't coming from Beca, who is just standing there stone cold, smile in place and drenched in blood that is now pooling at the bottom of the feet. It's coming from the taller woman behind her, who is holding her broom stick up over her head before swiping it straight through Beca's neck, sending her head off flying towards the other end of the forest before you could even blink a warning to her.

Petrified by the remaining body as you watch it sag lifelessly to the side, you exclaim through a waterfall of tears, " **Beca**!" And snap awake from your scream, gripping anything close to you, which happens to be an armrest connect to a door in a car.

A very _nice_ and very sporty car that smells like cigarettes and is black inside and out.

Your heart is thumping in your throat like a drum and you can feel sweat layering the front of your forehead and cheeks. Settling your breathing back down to normal before you end up hyperventilating, in the driver's seat of the car is Beca, head still intact to her body, wearing her usual black leather jacket and all.

She's shooting out the window with one hand holding that type of gun she showed you the other day and apparently, you've already forgotten the name of it, but by the powerful shots blowing out of it and the boisterous noise every time she pulls the trigger, the gun is something not to mess around with.

Her other hand operates the car, weaving left and right through the forest's trees in an expert way you'd only see in crime fighting movies on the freeway during an intense car chase. If you weren't on the verge of a panic attack, you'd crack a joke about her being Paul Walker's-may he Rest In Peace- long lost cousin or something.

Head still fuzzy and spinning like an amusement ride, you open your mouth to speak, regaining your consciousness back from that horrible dream you just had, but the words get taken straight from your mouth when you catch a glimpse of what it is exactly that Beca is shooting at.

They look like normal humans, but at the same time they look like something from the deepest parts of Hell, and then you remember by that God awful funk radiating off your _once_ fancy outfit of what they actually are:

 _Witches_. You think to yourself while another head filled with black goo explodes right before your eyes when Beca pulls the trigger to her gun.

 _Holy shit! Beca is shooting at witches! Real life witches!_

"Breathe, Red!" Beca yells at you above the gunshots and tires screeching against the gravel. She isn't looking at you and hasn't since you've probably got into the car, but it's not hard to tell by your increase in breathing rate and your fidgeting around in the seat that you're seconds away from freaking the _fuck_ out.

Sorry, but this whole deal is new to you.

It's not everyday you go to a college party, hoping to score seven minutes in heaven with Barden's hottest badass, then to find out she isn't a vampire, but in fact, kills witches for a living, **real fucking witches** from a folklore novel and now you have to cross your fingers that you won't end up getting slaughtered or whatever witches do while this (attractive) badass holds your precious life in the palms of her hands.

Actually this, what's going on now, is something that **never** fucking happens! So sue you if freaking out is not the normal thing to do in these types of situations.

"I need to get out of the car," you don't yell this like how you wanted to. You start to think that your high levels of fear transformed into shock, voice shaking each word that you speak.

For the most part, you think, everything that happened to be chasing you is either gone, or dead by how Beca has stopped shooting out her window and there isn't any witches heads exploding with black junk anymore. However, she just looks at you with a single, perfectly sculpted brow passing her hairline, as if you just asked her to solve a rubik's cube in under five seconds.

On the verge of tears, vomiting and screaming, you slam both hands down loudly against wherever they land in her car, showing just how serious you're being and how close you were to blowing up. "Beca, get me out of this car _now_!" You've never quite directed a yell like this before towards anyone, really, so it takes your breath away while also surprising you that your voice could even reach that high point in anger.

Following the orders immediately, Beca slams on the brakes of her car, tires sliding against the rocks and dirt and still lost somewhere inside the forest but right now, you could really care less because you needed some air pronto. Once fully stopped, you throw yourself out of the car as fast as possible, stumbling a little before falling into the ground and feeling your breathing pick up drastically.

"Oh my God." At this point, you're not only fighting for the lack of air in your body, but also start to cry because this is all too much for you. " _Oh my God!" y_ ou scream, clawing at your hair and trying to ignore the repulsive smell from the black stuff still covering your body.

This can't be happening.

All of it.

You're just a normal sorority girl, trying to get pass the bitch they call college and achieve your degree so you can start your future, hopefully get married one day, with a loving and supportive partner by your side.

Maybe a dog; a pug because they're just so darn ugly it makes them the cutest.

You've had a good life; you never got into any kind of trouble whether it was with your parents (other than getting a little snappy every once in awhile) or even with the law. Maybe you drank underage a little bit here and there, tried marijuana _once_ at a high school party and occasionally eat grapes while shopping when you haven't paid for them yet, but in your defense, _everyone_ does that.

You're a good girl who (for the most part) has followed all the rules.

What have you done to deserve all of this?

Soothing hands rub your back and for some reason, it calms you down slightly. The stiff gesture is hesitant and kind of awkward, so you know it's Beca, because who else could it be that would have no idea how to comfort someone? Stranded alone in the forest with only her, unless it was a witch, that is. The thought of it is nice, which is probably why it calms your hiccup cries to something softer.

You also hate to show yourself like this to her. If she didn't want to date you _before_ when you were at your best, bubbly, charming and witty self, she definitely wouldn't want to date you _now_ when there is snot running out of your nose and drool dripping from the corners of your mouth as you hysterically cry your eyes out.

Awkward pats to your back cause you to turn around after whipping your face of anything unattractive that you're about to flash Beca with and are greeted with the girl crouching uncomfortably in a catcher's position, looking everywhere but at you and is gnawing on her bottom lip in a way that is a no brainer to pick up she doesn't usually comfort people often.

For a brief second, you almost want to giggle at the sight, maybe help her out a bit because she is still as cute as ever, even more so now than her usual badass persona, but at some point, you need to take mercy on the girl enduring so much torture and also, the fact that you're being chased by supernatural creatures is kind of a buzz kill and twists at your stomach in all the wrong ways.

Hopefully, you're just bat shit _psycho,_ and imagined the whole last _however_ minutes you've been stranded in the forest and then some with the amount of time you were passed out cold.

The black blood, the shooting, the witches.

Maybe you just hallucinated _all_ of it and can blame your craziness on the alcohol consumed at the party.

That would be the cherry on top if that were the case because if so, at least then your life wouldn't be in danger.

"So," Beca awkwardly dangles, allowing you to take all the time you need to re-group as she thumps her hand against your back in the least but most comforting way. "Uhh….we kinda need to get out of here….like now-but I understand how this may be hard for you to…" she bounces her head back and forth, pondering the perfect word to use. " _Understand…._ completely everything that is going on, but if you get in the car, I'll explain it all to you."

You're just about to agree to this, feeling that Beca's car is a lot safer than out here in the woods, but just as you're mid nod, one of those corpse like women sneaks up from behind Beca and you can't spit out a warning fast enough before she feels the added presence for herself and does this impressive (like really freaking impressive) kick thing to knock the witch on her back.

"Chloe, get in the car! Now!" Beca barks this order and of course, you obey like a well trained dog, but not without admiring the way this girl is a martial arts professional with how she is fighting this witch.

 _Seriously_ , where in the world did an eighteen, maybe even nineteen year old learn to fight like this?

The punches are strong; the kicks and flips are even stronger, the stamina...oh boy now that is something impressive.

 **Jesus** , is Beca like Jackie Chan's long lost adopted cousin or something?

Wait, what were you going to do?

"LEAVE, CHLOE!" Beca harshly reminds, snapping you out of your little trance and _oh yeah_ , that's what you were doing.

Getting up from the dirt, you scope out Beca's mustang in the darkness before sprinting as fast as it is humanly possible for you to go. As you're running to the passenger side of the car, emerging up from underneath the ground is the same witch Beca was fighting just a second ago, but now with a full face view, you recognized the woman.

Even with the ghostly white skin, rotting teething, and bloodshot red eyes, you'd be able to spot out a Bella sister like it was written on the back of your hand?

"Gretchen?" you ask incredulously, freezing in place from shock at the familiar face.

She doesn't even have to respond for you to already know the answer because still sitting on her neck above her collarbone is a similar Bella necklace; the "B" more rusty and broken compared to yours.

You honestly can't believe she's actually _alive_ -though she might as well be dead because she looks like a mortifying zombie that just came out from the ground.

Smells like one too.

A roar, or growl of some sort takes you off guard; it definitely didn't sound human and was never a sound you ever heard Gretchen make before. Then, your arm gets snagged aggressively by this…. _thing's_ hands, razor sharp nails slicing you perfectly across the underside of your bicep. Hissing in pain while blood begins to flow down to your elbow and are now _certain_ that this is not the sweet, caring Gretchen you went to school with, Beca comes up next, pushing you out of the way.

Seeing an opening and trying not to focus on the amount of blood rushing from the inside of your arm, you dart to Beca's car again and stop short when the freshman gets thrown straight into the trunk of a tree, back taking most of the impact.

"Beca!" You scream out at the top of your lungs, not daring to imagine how hurt, or even unconscious she is by the force of the throw, but by the wailing discomfort in pain shown over Beca's features as she grips her sides, specifically her ribs, you can take a rough guess and tell she's in pretty bad shape.

Gretchen, however, locks onto you like a radar, ready to pounce any second. But as you're about to run up and check if Beca is okay since that seemed like your main priority, Beca whips out yet another gun hidden at the back of her jeans, throwing herself into a squatting position before blowing a hole straight through Gretchen's head, knocking her out cold.

Why she didn't do this sooner I'd beyond you.

 _Of course_ , seeing the wave of black junk and a human head pop like a water balloon right before your eyes, you end up falling to the side, passing out cold again, not that it's much of a surprise this time.

* * *

Waking up this time from unconsciousness, Beca is calmly driving her car, unlike before where she was operating the wheel like an absolute _maniac_. Also, you're no longer in the forest by the sudden civilization and have made your way onto an unfamiliar street, which is all around better than that creepy ass place.

There's a newly placed cloth wrapped tightly around your arm, in the exact spot you were injured and can tell by the missing chunk of the bottom of Beca's shirt that's where it came from. The pain is still present; it stings every time to flinch your arm and you're ingredient sore, but overall, it feels slightly better-at least now the profuse bleeding has stopped.

You'll take soreness and scratches over being ripped to shreds any day.

Beca catches that you're stirring awake out of the corner of her eye. "Hey," she says softly and in a tone that is way too casual, as if she didn't just kill a handle full of things you're still not to certain about. "How are you feeling? Hope you don't mind that I stitched you up. Bitch got you pretty good and I couldn't risk an infection."

Your eyes drift to your wrapped arm and you want to smile, but you're kind of too confused about everything that just happened and still kind of groggy. It's also a good thing that Beca poked you around with needles while you were knocked out because 1). you _hate_ them and 2). your pain tolerance is one of an infant's.

It sure as Hell saved her the troubles of keeping you still.

Clearing your throat before speaking up, "Um, fine...I _guess_." Which isn't totally a lie. Other than your head rattling, eye sight foggy and every muscle in your body _aching_ , you aren't doing too bad, considering the fact you just got attacked.

Beca nods her head, listening, while also keeping her attention focused on the road while she drives. If at any other time, you'd swoon at finally being able to ride shotgun in Beca's muscle car. Soak in every ounce of hotness she is oozing with while one hand hooks delicately at the top of the wheel and the other one controlling the gear shift.

 _Who knew that driving a stick would be such a turn on._

But right now, you have other things occupying your mind and a flood of questions that need to be answered otherwise you think you might burst.

"So," Beca chuckles airly, dangling the word in front of your face and you see nothing in this whole situation that could be the slightest bit funny, even if just a small snicker. "I bet you have your… _questions_."

 _Oh really, Beca. You think?_

"So now's the time I guess."

 _Ooohhh_ damn right it's time, Mitchell, but now that you're under the spotlight, you have no idea where to even start. Should you ask why she is an expert at shooting and crazy martial arts fighting? Or should you start off with the big elephant in the car that she so happens to have killing witches signed off on her tax forms?

Unable to decide between the two, you take the obvious and most important question of them all, "who.. _are_ you?"

At first, Beca doesn't respond; she doesn't even blink you think. She just sits in the driver seat, driving relaxed to only God knows where and it definitely seems like she is on purpose ignoring the question you just asked.

But then, she releases a tired sigh, shifting gears real quick before running that same hand through her hair while her defined jaw clenches, and for some reason, your mind, still fuzzy and throbbing does a completely three sixty turn into a deep dark place you can't control.

" _God_ , you're so hot," you mumble dreamy, pressing the side of your cheek into the leather black seats of Beca's mustang and then gasping astonished, clasping a hand to cover your mouth in effort to try and snatch up your inner dialogue that you just so happened to word vomit all over Beca's lap. Falling deeper into the hole, "why don't you come back to my place? Show me your other _hidden talents_?" Again, you have no idea how you're so confident when spilling all these flirty lines to Beca and even have the audacity to reach one of your hands over to rub the inside of Beca's jean covered thigh.

You're not a shy bean when it comes to boundaries and your flirty talent is _above_ excellent when interested in someone. Your pick up game is _immaculate_ and personal space is non existent in your book and your motto to live by is a hug a day keeps the doctors away.

But **this**?

Your hand rubbing up and down over Beca's thigh in the most salacious way while brimming dangerous territory and the known look on your face that screams kinky.

This is _way_ too much.

And you almost feel embarrassed that you're coming at this girl so strong.

However, you can't for the life of you pull your hand away and just shut your damn mouth. It's like someone, or something is controlling you like a remote control car, or a robot; that there is something not processing with the social norms everyone lives by.

Beca glances down to her lap where your hand surprisingly still is, moving carelessly, nails dragging against the material. She raises a suspicious brow, but doesn't move your hand away and _finally_ , you're free from whatever trance it was causing you to lose all control of your body and you snatch your hand back so fast you think you might've dislocated your shoulder.

"Beca, I-I'm _so_ sorry! I-I don't know what just happened." Which is nothing but the truth. There's nothing more in the world that would complete you then winning a shot with the _rebellious_ badass herself.

But Jesus, you have no idea where that sudden lack of a filter and bravery came from.

 _Lock it up, Beale._

Beca seems to shake it off, which is more than refreshing, though you really think you might've hurt your arm a bit by the quick retreat. How about we just add that to the list of things that could go wrong tonight now shall we?

"Succubus Rum," Beca mutters quietly, as if she is informing you about something you should be concerned about, however, you have no idea what she is talking about. "Let me guess, your new house mothers made you drink something before the party? A drink? _Red_? Probably smells delicious, but tastes like shit? A mixture between raw meat and death?"

You don't know how Beca knew about this, especially since she wasn't there, but you nod your head, responding to her question when she tears her focus away from the darkened streets briefly to see your answer.

Returning her gaze back to the streets after she sees your answer, she puffs her cheeks up before blowing all the air out. "Yeah...uh, I don't really know how to tell you this, but I'm going to try."

You sit patiently without saying something (yet) as you wait for her to continue because that's definitely not reassuring.

Releasing a heavy sigh, "Gail and Kommissar? Yeah, they're _so_ totally witches."

As a reflex and maybe a little delusional, you bark out a boisterous laugh, thinking this is the funniest thing you have ever heard in your life. When you get a poker, deadpan face in return to your howling cackles as you grip at your aching stomach, you begin to settle, then the _"oh shit_ " moment hits you like a semi truck on the freeway and all of a sudden you feel like you're going to throw up.

And hopefully not pass out again, for the **third** time tonight in, like, an hour.

Beca must've seen the pale color change in your face and how your once strong laughs were cut off immediately by the turning going on in your stomach and merges like a pro off to the side of the rode.

When the car is fully stopped and it is safe for you to stick your head out the door, (though you think you would've done it eventually regardless if the car was still in motion or not, feeling hot liquid rising up your throat by the millisecond) you empty out your stomach and all the blood red alcohol consumed tonight onto the black pavement in front of someone's driveway.

Forget the hysterical crying from before, this by far is a deal breaker if you ever wanted to have a date with Beca. And to prove this, ask the amount of vomit that happens to be coming out of both nostrils and the dry heaving that is echoing the entire neighborhood.

Ew, you'd be surprised if _anyone_ wanted to date you after witnessing this.

Only momentarily feeling like a giant asshole for losing your dinner in front of some innocent person's, _nicely_ built suburban house, you slug yourself back into the car, shutting the door and when you're fully in, there's an unopened bottle of water waiting for you in Beca's outstretched hands.

Taking the beverage with an appreciative, droopy smile, your head gets the that fuzzy feeling again. "I give my gratitude in the form of _kisses_." You wink seductively, slowly moving the water bottle up to your lips for a drink in a way that no person who just got done throwing up should be doing. "And if you're lucky, something... _more_."

Once again, Beca shakes off these crass comments that seem to just get torn from your thoughts and fall from out your mouth. She turns the keys in the ignition, starting her car back up before resuming to drive to wherever it was that you guys were going. Somewhere you have _yet_ to find out.

"It's good that you're getting that poison out of you before it gets too strong," Beca says and you only can give a confused glance back, not fully understanding. "Succubus Rum gets stronger the longer it's trapped inside your body. For whatever reason, it didn't have the same effect on you that it did on all your sisters."

"What do you mean?" You ask, suddenly curious and a little bit worried now that the Bellas are being brought up, especially since there is in fact such thing as witches and two of them so happen to be the Bellas' new house mothers.

Which you left them alone with.

Oh no...

"Succubus Rum makes you extremely... _provocative_. You start doing things you wouldn't normally do, your mind basically gets eaten up by the potion these witches drained inside your blood and it's only a matter of time before you're fully brainwashed," Beca explains carefully.

Now, everything makes sense; the way all your sisters were acting around those frat boys who you'd never think they'd associated themselves with because they're hard core _tens_ and those boys were hard core _no's_.Even Aubrey, your **_best friend,_** someone who you know like the back of your hand was doing things tonight that literally made your jaw drop.

But even though you now know the reason behind all this uncharacteristic behavior, it doesn't make the situation any better, because your sisters are still with Gail and Kommissar, and according to Beca, their safety, if not already, is in danger.

"The rum may have not affected you as much as the others, but it's still floating around in your blood stream," Beca adds, pulling you away from your panicked thoughts running a marathon through your mind. _God_ , you hope your sisters are okay. "Hence why you are extremely flirty, more so than normal."

Very true. You can't even try to lie and say that during the past few weeks, your flirting with Beca wasn't as subtle as you would've liked. But you're a woman, with needs, and Beca happens to big the total package and you're the type of girl who gets what she wants and she likes what she sees.

Aside from that though, "you still haven't answered my question from before," you sober pretty quickly and battle back, turning your whole body to the side and then some, eyes burning two holes in the side of Beca's head. "Obviously you aren't a typical freshman, so who are you? Like, a witch hunter or something? How are you so good at shooting….and _fighting_!? And have all this money on you and have amazing eyes and super kissable lips, and an impeccable jawline-" you cut yourself off, slapping a hand to your forehead. _Dammit_ , you did it again with the whole flirting thing.

This time Beca chuckles lowly at what you said, not making it any easier for you to control yourself and your unfiltered mouth, although a smiling/laughing Beca has to be one of your most favorite things. "How about we let this juice run out of your system before piling on the questions. I want you to be in the right mindset before I throw some of the answers at you. They're pretty intense, so I need you coherent."

You groan in defeat; Beca had a pretty good point there. Knowing your track record for the night, you'd end up turning your verbal flirts into physical ones, and that is something that shouldn't happen, at least not right now, that is.

"Where are we going?" You ask instead of fighting the conversation. Wanting to find out what is really going on with everything and everyone, especially Beca and you sisters is still your main priority, but waiting a little bit longer wouldn't hurt. You have a raging headache and this awful smelling black junk still covering your body head to toe.

The conversation can wait.

"My place," Beca answers simply, turning on a deserted street that lead into another forest, which is weird because last time you checked, Beca lived on campus in the shared dorms at Barden.

With Stacie.

The incredibly _tall_ , supermodel babe.

And this is totally _not_ the dorms at Barden because you remember vividly the jail sail like room you had to briefly share with Aubrey before moving all your stuff into the Bellas' house.

This forest, on the bright side, is ten times less creepier than Barden's forest and there's even a fancy looking abandoned cabin located in the middle that Beca pulls up to.

"Oh wow," you breathe, looking out the tinted window as best as you can, getting a decent image of the brown logs and the trees currently in the process of dying curtaining the roof as red and orange leaves cover the staircase and area surrounding the place.

It's insanely big, way too big for someone-a freaking _freshman_ in college, as a matter of fact-to own, even a cabin for one person was a little excessive. Parking the car next to the cabin while you admire its beauty, Beca takes out her keys, steps out of the car and opens your door.

"Come on. Let's get cleaned up and cook up something to absorb that shit in your stomach." Beca holds out her hand for you to grab and you try ( _dammit, you try so hard_ ) not to swoon into a puddle of goo at Beca's chivalrous, charming behavior that is making your heart thunder against your ribcage.

And okay, and maybe not everything that happened tonight is such a bad thing after all.

* * *

Beca leads you inside the cabin, which by the way, is a lot more intense compared to the outer appearance of the place. There's old fashioned antiques around every corner and the usual hanging deer head and spread out bear rug by the overly large fireplace, which is perfectly lit and crackling orange flames, keeping the living room warm and cozy.

"How do you live here?" you ask curiously, now checking out the living room where your eyes land on an old fashioned record player. Walking up to it, your fingers trace the vinyl and next to the player is the cover of the Beatles album _Revolver_ , which is hands down the best album by them period.

Your attention is then grabbed by the sight of a an impressive turn table, desk speakers and a bunch of other technology that you would only see at a club while being operated by a highly trained DJ.

"I like to make music," Beca says, watching all your movements like a hawk as you walk up to the set up and grab for the fancy pair of headphones sitting on top of an even fancier(and by fancy, you totally mean _expensive_ ) MacBook. "Mixes, mash ups and all that jazz."

You aren't looking directly at Beca, but can tell by the trajectory of her voice that she is pretty close to you, probably watching over your shoulder to make sure you don't break anything valuable.

"This is really cool," you compliment, switching between all the cool gadgets to examine, landing on this pad of some sort that blinks with different LED colors. You see a Kiiara EP placed next to Beca's laptop and squeal immediately. "I love her songs! _Gold_ is kind of hard to sing along to because of the chorus, but she's awesome and totally a fave!" you gush, reading the back of the CD, surprised that people still actually bought these things since iTunes and iPods were _the_ thing now and have been for a while. "Any collaboration an artist does with DJ Mitchie is one of my favorites! She's such a good producer and definitely my go to jams when working out."

"Oh really?" Beca seems truly surprised at this reveal, moving her presence to shadow next to you in front of her desk.

"Oh totes!" you say, placing the CD back in place and turning to face Beca, leaning your lower half on the desk. "I wish she'd be more public because her talent is out of this world, but I understand with fame and all, wanting to be low key about things. Even award shows she's kind of like a ghost."

"She's not much of a people person, _persee_." Beca snickers, shaking her head and looking down.

"Understandable," you agree. "Wait, how do you know?" Curiosity gets the best of you, arching a brow puzzled. Beca seemed pretty confident about this; it made you wonder if she was just another stalker fan or she truly knew this DJ. "Is it because you two by _coincidence_ have the same last name and are the shortest people known to man?" You tease, nudging your shoulder with hers. Then something clicks as you put all the pieces together. The studio, the passion for music, the same last name and the similarity of looks between DJ Mitchie and Beca from the brief few times you saw her on TV.

"Oh my God," you gasp quietly under your breath while Beca waits for the eruption to happen when realization fully hits you. "Oh my... _God_!" Eyes stretching so wide they might as well pop out, and jaw dropping to the ground where your feet uncross, "you're DJ Mitchie!"

Beca just stares at you, chewing on her bottom lip in a nervous way and keeping the reveal afloat. To be honest, you already know the answer. Everything is right in front of you to back it up; the music, the sports car, the fancy cabin alone in the forest, the celebrity amount of money Beca carries around in her wallet,

(and it's not just dollar bills, people. It's twenties for the lowest, fifties and it wouldn't surprise you if there was a few hundred dollars piled in the stack).

"How old are you?" You chance another question, though you have a feeling Beca is going to be mute for this one too. Being right, you stomp your foot down, slamming a hand on the table behind you while also avoiding any expensive technology, "dammit, Beca! Tell me what the _Hell_ is going on?!" You blow up; the whole night taking you on a roller coaster of a ride with endless unanswered questions.

You just need to know.

 _Everything_ , that is.

No secrets this time. It was kind of fun before playing this whole mysterious game with the freshman, but now, it's getting a little concerning and annoying. At the least, she owes you some explanation to your endless series of unanswered questions.

Beca sighs heavy and rough, running a hand through her hair-that by the way, is still perfectly put together. Yours probably looks like a rats nest ,so how it's even possible for Beca to have amazing hair even after everything is mind boggling.

"How about...you go take a shower, freshen up while I make you something to eat," she orders while moving away from the table, avoiding all eye contact. "Then I promise we will talk. Okay?" Beca asks cautiously, probably knowing you're a ticking time bomb ready to explode right now and anything said to push your buttons would be a horrible idea.

You agree though, for talking after a shower. Your hygiene is rather, _disgusting_ right now and any longer in these clothes would probably kill you before even talking to Beca. Also, food sounds more than amazing and there's a hunch inside your gut that tells you Beca is a _phenomenal_ cook. She's good at everything else, so why wouldn't she be good at preparing a five star dish?

Playing follow the leader around the cabin, she shows you to the bathroom, pointing out where everything is, towels and toiletry wise. She tells you that she'll set up a fresh pair of clothes on the guest bed for when you get out, and that she'd be in the kitchen ready to talk.

Grabbing everything you need and taking a refreshing whiff away from those destroyed clothes you were wearing, you step into the shower and allow the steam and warm water to wash down your face, riding an excess black stuff over your skin. Your arm burns once the warm water comes in contact with your pretty impressive size gash on your bicep and you wonder if Beca is also trained in the medical field because your stitches are patched up expertly.

Eventually, the stinging goes away, allowing you to relax under the steam. The longer you stay under the water, the more your head starts to clear up and the more you start to calm down. The throbbing pain goes away and your muscles start to relax under the massaging from the water jets.

Using Beca's shampoo and conditioner that smells exactly like her, you rinse off everything and reach for the towel then eventually step out into the steam filled room where you wipe the mirror to take a look at yourself. You would've stayed in there longer if it wasn't for the fact that Beca has a big, _giant_ question mark under her name and the two of you had a lot to talk about.

Heading out a lot cleaner than you were moments ago, you spot a neatly folded group of clothes for you to change into; a semi snug baseball tee and a pair of the comfiest sweats you've ever put on before. You rub a towel over your hair, dampening it out as best as you can because your patience right now with the whole blow drying process is a hard pass. Throwing your hair up into a high messy bun, you head out of the room and towards the kitchen where you can hear a concerning amount of ruckus going on involving pots and pans.

Cautiously, you peek your head around the corner to see Beca messing around with the pans over the stove top, cursing under her breath every few seconds and gripping against the counter when she isn't needing with the food.

"Everything good?" you ask, slowly entering the kitchen and taking a seat at the table where Beca's struggle show is front and center. There's a smokey haze around the kitchen and the strong scent of something that has been burned, making you wonder what trouble Beca has gotten into the short amount of time apart.

" _Yes_ ," Beca snaps, clearly hiding the fact that everything is _not_ okay and you bite the inside of your cheek not to laugh because you feel a slight hunch that Beca will not find the same amount of humor in the situation.

However, you do think a lot about the sight of Beca struggling and how it's _insanely_ adorable. It's a nice change seeing that she isn't good at everything she does and is a normal human being, not some sort of bionic Goddess.

The sounds of the stove turning off is heard from behind and then a plate filled with a freshly made grilled cheese, along with a glass of water is sliding out in front of you. "I...burnt the first one," Beca grumbles while taking a seat from across the table, scowl present and looking just as grumpy as before.

You eye the - _freshly_ \- made grilled cheese sitting in front of you, staring at the food and really wondering what to do next because your whole pre game before hand prepped you up for a feast of a meal; something you'd see on the food network channel, or in a fancy restaurant. A big juicy steak, or a fried lobster served with fancy pasta, along with all sorts of garnishes was more your expectation.

Not a lunch your mom would make for you after a long day at school.

Also, who has a sandwich without any chips? That should be a sin right there.

"Is something wrong with it?" Beca raises a suspicious brow, startling you by her voice as you were way too wrapped up in the possibility of being serve an actual _grilled cheese._

You shake your head frantically, hoping that your minor debate whether this is actually happening or not didn't come off as rude. Truly, you believe that this here grilled cheese might happen to be the _best_ one you've ever eaten and maybe inside the sandwich, Beca will surprise you with a little twist of her own since, you know, she is notorious for taking you blindsided with all the repertoire of things she keeps to herself.

Beca watches the entire motion of lifting the sandwich up to your mouth while that same eyebrow touches her hairline, silver rings around her fingers tapping against the wooden table. Mouthful of cheese, you chew it completely before swallowing and sadly, there's nothing too _extraordinary_ about it.

But that doesn't mean it's still not a darn good sandwich and to prove your point, you take another monster of a bite, all the hunger finally catching up to you at once and this sandwich being more than satisfying.

You make sure all the food is rinsed from your mouth with a swig of water before speaking again, "it's really good." Hopefully, you assure to the point where Beca believes you, but by the looks of it, Beca doesn't seem convinced. "Thank y-you. I was...just expecting something…. _more_ I guess?" Hmm, not how you planned on that coming out.

Instead of one this time, Beca raises _both_ brows up at this and quickly you panic.

"No! Not like that!" Slapping a hand to your forehead because it was apparent that nothing coming out of your mouth was working in your favor, you try again. "I really do appreciate it. It's just, you have all this money-the nice car and crazy double life. I was expecting something other than a meal so... _plain_."

Because ladies and gents, Beca is everything but plain. **Jesus** , you know that one saying, " _life is like a box of chocolates, you never know what you gonna get?"_ Yeah well, that's Beca. One big, giant mystery that surprises you with something new each day.

Beca's body language relaxes at this while you continue to inhale the food. "Cooking isn't really my thing," she admits quietly, playing with a crack in the wooden table with her fingernails. She gets up from her seat and walks over to the fridge, pulling out a ice cold beer and smoothly cracks off the lid with an edge of the nearest corner she can find. "I pretty much live off those things and I figured what better way to get that alcohol out of your system than some bread to absorb it." She points with one finger at the sandwich you're devouring while holding the beer up to her mouth before taking a large drink.

You fall into some sort of trance watching Beca drink and it's totally as weird as it sounds. The way her throat throbs up and down. The way her jaw line sort of _pops_ in all it's gloriousness. It's extremely hard to look away in short, so when Beca comes tk join you back at the table, saying something along the lines of asking if you were okay, your only response is to hum out dazely.

"What?" You shake yourself out of it. Then blame it on how tired you are after enduring such a long night that had a drastic turn in events. You could've sworn that at least by now, which is close to hitting one in the morning, you'd be a lot more drunk and doing a lot more than just _talking_ to Beca.

Or at least that's what you thought.

On the contrary, you didn't picture yourself sitting alone in her impressive cabin that she owns by herself, chomping along on a child's play grilled cheese sandwich after fighting a few dozen witches.

Oh right, that reminds you.

Setting the crust aside and pushing the plate out of the way before threading your fingers together and laying them on top of the table, "we need to talk."

Eyeing your finished plate while nodding her head, "no crust next time." Beca takes your plate and throws it in the sink before rejoining you. "Noted."

You smile because even though Beca has a scowl on her face 99.9% of the time, her actions when it comes to holding the door open for you, giving you water after throwing up, cooking you a grilled cheese while remembering what you like and don't like, then cleaning up your dishes is a quick way to win over your heart.

Not that Beca has much farther to go in that department.

"So?" Beca drawls and you can see the nerves bubbling up inside her like a volcano. "Tonight was not how I expected my night to go."

You scoff out loud; wasn't that an understatement and an agenda that was mutual. "You're telling me!"

Beca pushes this comment and extra raised volume from your voice to the side, continuing onto what she was saying. "As you may or may not already know, there is in fact such things as...witches."

You gulp down a knot that formed inside your throat, wishing that this question out of everything else would be the one that wasn't true. "Can I ask you some questions?" you ask firm and tentatively and Beca gives you the green light, breaking the dam for these flood of questions she is about to be demolished by. "Where are you from?"

Beca twiddles her thumbs around each other, looking rather guilty for such an innocent question. "I'm from Portland Maine, but moved to Los Angeles when I graduated from high school."

Hold up. Did she say when she graduated from high school? Wouldn't that have been _now_? "How old are you?" You don't know if you really want to hear the answer because there's something there tickling you that it's going to be something you'd rather live not knowing.

Beca lowers her head like a puppy that just got caught doing something bad and you wait impatiently for the answer. "Twenty three this year in November."

You feel your eyes stretching wide at the confirmed age, totally not expecting _that_. "Oh my God."

You've hit a whole new level at how flabbergasted someone could be and that's because Beca just admitted that the two of you so happen to be the same age; you're four months older but still. "And you're DJ Mitchie? Music producer at Capitol who has worked with Selena Gomez, Demi Lovato, David Guetta, Kiiara and probably a lot more that I can't list at the top of my head?"

Beca chuckles lowly as you're winded from finishing your sentence, breathing erratic by now and you don't know if it's because of the lack of air, or the fact Beca's whole existence in your head is one giant lie. "Glad you studied up about me on your free time."

At any other time, you'd be bouncing off the walls with excitement that you are sitting alone in an arm's reach of someone who is the mastermind behind literally all your favorite songs and in reality, you still kind of feel a wave of starstruck because DJ Mitchie _so totally_ made you a grilled cheese, shot a witch for you, and drove you to her place in a type of car your dad would give his right arm for the chance to drive.

But happy to burst your little fan girl bubble, the clear reveal that Beca has been lying to you this _entire_ time takes away all the fun in that.

Beca takes the rope from your hands on this one. "I may make awesome music and have a couple Grammys to flaunt here and there, but unlike most celebrities who enjoy the beach, or take a shit ton of nude selfies that surprisingly-but also not that surprisingly- get leaked later on, I kill witches," she states matter of factly, no shame or hesitation. "I'm a witch hunter."

Really, there are no words to form in response to this and you physically feel your stomach drop down to your butt. Staring dumbly at her is your only option until it clicks that anything verbal, such as words coming out of your mouth is not going to be happening any time soon.

"And I'm a little apprehensive to believe that your house mothers, Gail and Kommissar are witches," Beca continues, then sighs again. "Actually, I know they're witches. In fact, they are _thee_ witches. Queens of the cult that they're so desperately trying to build back together with all your sorority sisters after their previous one got destroyed."

"You're joking...right?" Finally, even though it comes out high pitched and disbelievingly, you find some words despite the fear pooling in your body. "Witches as in ugly, green skinned monsters with large noses, piercing cackles, potions and broom sticks?"

"Afraid not-though the green skinned things isn't really true. As you saw tonight, they're still ugly as shit, but only when they transform themselves," Beca affirms and you can only blink in response to this. You have to be dreaming again. _Have_ to be. "I started this whole witch hunting deal with my mom when I was younger. I've been familiar with Gail for a long time-Kommissar, her sister, not so much."

This at least answers that awkward moment back at the party between them two, and how Gail was eyeing her like they had some major history. Oblivious you, however, just assumed that maybe Beca cut her off driving one day, or stole her parking space. Not the idea of Beca and her mother destroying their cult full of witches.

"My mom was the one who destroyed her last cult of witches back in Baton Rouge Louisiana. Now, they're trying to rebuild their cult, build an army to perform a spell on the night of Halloween this year when there is suppose to be a blood moon. Performing it right with all the little bits and pieces will grant Gail and Kommissar immortality forever."

"They're creating a cult? With the Bellas?" Beca nods her head, answering. "What happened to Gretchen then? W-we saw her back in the forest. She didn't look...alive."

"That's because she wasn't. Either you're recruited and brainwashed into a witch slave, or Gail physically sucks the soul out of your body, giving her all the beauty she could ever ask for before you're zombiefied. Under all that flawless skin, there's a hideous witch that might as well be dead. To cover that up, she steals the beauty from girls to keep herself alive."

"How old is she?" you question, because the woman doesn't look a day over twenty. Hell, she could be considered a Bella and probably is getting that a lot from others around school.

Beca blows out some air, eyeing the ceiling thoughtfully. " _God_ , hundreds of years old. Whenever the Salem Witch trials took place."

Apparently, Beca is not only bad at cooking, but is also awful at history. At least she has an amazing set of ears and can create awesome music, so learning the date of something that happened so long ago doesn't really matter.

"Thing is back then, the "witches" that they burned at the stake, thinking they were the ones doing all the witchcraft were all innocent woman. Gail and her sister were the puppeteers controlling the people of Massachusetts and they were smart enough never to get caught."

You huff out disbelievingly, unable to wrap your mind around all of this nonsense and believe that this is actually happening to the Bellas' household. This is ridiculous and you would be absolutely delirious to accept and admit to the supernatural beings of witches roaming around Barden.

"How do you know all of this?" Your tone gains a sharper pitch to it and you don't know whether you're getting upset because everything that Beca has been informing you sounded deranged, or the fact that things are starting to become a little scary.

Beca's hesitant with her response this time and you urge her on with a wave to your hands without her not really looking at you. "White witches." Beca's lips move as an inaudible sound comes out of her mouth, but you aren't able to catch it clearly.

"Excuse me?" you lean in closer, just in case you were too far away to hear it the first time.

"My mom and I are white witches."

Your mouth drops only at the word "witch" and how Beca clarified herself as one, every other sound around you going mute and you feel a thousand tiny prickles along your body. It feels like you're submerged inside a fishbowl; all sounds coming out muffled.

"So you are a witch, who kills witches?" Beca nods her heads, which is something you'd never think she'd admit to.

 _God_ , this even worse than the rumor going around school about her being a drug dealer. At least with that label, you wouldn't seem half as crazy explaining your giant crush on her as you would trying to admit to someone you have the total hots for a _witch_.

You jolt up from your seat, unsure of really what to say, or what to do. Sensing the fear growing inside your body, Beca continues to speak. "We aren't dangerous, Chlo. Yes, we are witches, my mom more so than myself, but we hardly ever use our powers and when we do, we use them for good, not evil."

Goodness gracious, this is all too much for you.

You pace the kitchen, thoughts going haywire inside your head, filling your mind up with things that you don't know what and what not to believe. Something you do believe, however, is that even with confirmation that Beca is a witch and the short few weeks spent together, hurting you is the last thing on Beca's mind and if it wasn't, you would've been dead by now.

"Are you a virgin?" is Beca's next random question that she throws onto the table so suddenly.

You gasp out loud, clutching at your chest. This whole conversation went from zero to a hundred in the matter of seconds. That was not a type of question you can just ask _anybody_. There's things that are meant to be kept to yourself, _private_ , and this is one of them.

"No," you mutter unconvincingly under your breath and stare down at the table in effort to avoid Beca's eyes, because after hearing it many times from others in the past, you came to a conclusion that you are an _awful_ liar.

"Chloe, please," Beca pleads, giving you desperate eyes. "I _need_ to know if it's true."

You groan out frustratingly, slinging your head back. "Yes!" Admitting it out loud makes you cringe and body coil up into a ball. There's a reason why you never wanted to talk about this subject, especially towards a person you try to do everything to impress. "I'm a... _virgin_. What does that have to do with anything?" You ask annoyed, crossing both arms above your chest.

Beca switches routes on the question though, throwing another one at you blindsided. "And I'm assuming you're a natural redhead?"

"Yes-or do you need baby pictures and my mom and dad's drivers license?" you snap with slitted eyes, throwing your hands up in exasperation. You don't really know why you're coming off so defensive towards every question directed towards you, but you can't really avoid not doing it either. Beca's just here being a calm, helpful provider to all the bat shit crazy things happening around Barden.

And you're here acting like a complete mega bitch because she threw you the punchline, asking if you were a _virgin_ and natural redhead.

Do you want to know what's going on or not? Cause how you are acting right now says that you don't.

"I don't know how to really say this without coming off as a dick, but you're like Gail and Kommissar's pet." You scrunch your face at the comparison. Okay, horrible way to put it Beca. _Jesus_. "The spell, as I said before, will only work if the witches have every last thing."

"Okay? Then what are these things?" You throw your hands up with an eyeroll, perhaps something learned from Beca. Attitude has never been something you gave off to most people, even when they deserved it.

"One, ten boys- _or_ ten children, but assuming that Gail's first failed attempt was with children and it didn't work out all that well, she has switched to boys, who are a Hell of a lot easier to coy into a trap, especially if she operates a house full of hot babes."

Oh no. That makes sense regarding the whole flirty behavior going around earlier tonight at the party, with Jessica, Stacie, Aubrey and even little ol' innocent, cinnamon roll Emily Junk, who seemed like the type of girl that would be flustered by even the slightest mention about sex rather than the girl to initiate it on the dance floor for everyone to see.

"Two, a decently large cult full of witches to pretty much take over the whole world, turning every woman into a witch and killing every man in sight by chanting a certain you and your sisters aren't in danger now, at the blood moon, assuming that they have everything to complete the spell, all of you guys would be switched to witches, then immortal and then evil."

"Beca, this sounds crazy," you breathe, still under a load of disbelief about the situation. You're still set on hearing the "just kidding" part Beca is about to come out with, punking you like an amateur. "Do you hear yourself right now? Witches and cults?"

"I know it may seem that way, but Chloe, I'm not crazy. Hell, you saw it for yourself out in the forest. They're real, and they aren't something to mess around with."

Dammit.

Beca is right and no matter how hard you try to convince yourself that witches aren't real, the clear and visual proof is something you can't shake out of your head.

"What's the third thing?" You really wish you didn't have to know. Something tells you it's not going to be good.

"The heart of a virgin, or blood of a white witch, and since their spells don't have any affect on me, getting to a virgin is a lot easier."

Well, that was a real bummer to hear. Never would you have thought that saving yourself for marriage would be the _stupidest_ thing in the world until now when your heart is on the line. Maybe if you weren't so set on fairytale endings and high hopes for that _one_ special night, you would've lost it to your junior year boyfriend, Brad, who desperately tried to have sex with you on the night of prom. If that was the case, maybe Gail and Kommissar wouldn't be saving you up for a witches' buffett on Halloween night.

An idea sparks up in your head, though it's an idea that makes you feel dirty and ashamed you even were able to think of such a thing."What if I lose my virginity?" you suggest the bitter idea while pausing your pacing. Beca quirks a brow up confused. Seeing that she doesn't understand fully yet, "what if I have sex with someone to reverse my purity?"

Beca shakes her head, declining your suggestion so fast you barely are able to get the full sentence out. "I mean, you _could_ , but tonight showed that for whatever reason, their potions and spells don't work on you either. If you're not a virgin, nor a woman they can transform into their cult, you'll be killed no matter what."

 _Awesome_. There goes that idea. "How could they even tell I was a virgin? It's not like I had it written on my forehead."

"You have a... _scent,_ " Beca responds, bobbing her head side to side. What you think is a covert move to sniff your armpit goes noticed by Beca, who only shakes her head with a hint of a small- _really_ small smile forming. "It's like...walking up into a freshly bloomed garden, or smothering your face into a large pile of newly washed clothes and taking a big ol' whiff. Your scent is... _refreshing_. Pure and all."

That's not too bad. At least it isn't a smell that is similar to a wet dog's fur, or a porty potty.

If Beca already knew the answer to her question because of this _so-called smell_ , why did she still feel the need to ask you? It could've save you a butt load of embarrassment without admitting to it out loud like you had to, thanks a lot _Beca_.

"You also happen to be a redhead, pure and claimed to be _magical_. Adding blue eyes makes you a shining rare gem in the witches realm, which is probably why I find you irresistible," Beca mutters under her breath in a volume she assumed would only be heard by her, but you, with your super sonic hearing it seemed caught it clear as day.

However, you don't make a comment about it, not with how the conversation for tonight has fell into. That was a type of conversation for another day, preferably one where the topic of witches, dying and cults weren't the main chatter going on about.

"So you're a witch-a _good_ witch," you correct when Beca's mouth opens to protest. "Who is also a famous DJ from California that flew down to Atlanta in hopes of stopping a bunch of witches who are about to take over my sorority and kill a ton of people in the process, just to become immortal?"

"I mean…yeah?" Beca's response comes off as a question and you start to laugh delirious again, thinking you've hit an all time high in the crazy department. "Please don't puke again."

You sober pretty quickly hearing Beca's attempt at a joke, which come on, _happened one time_! "What are we going to do?! I-I my best friend is with Gail right now! And all my sisters! We have to do something, Beca!"

"Calm down," Beca raises her hands up as a shield, standing to her feet and matching your level. Rule number one, don't tell a female who is on their last string of patience to _calm down_. That's almost worse than guys pulling the "time of the month" card when you're upset and they're just stupid. "I have a plan, but you're not going to like it."

You don't like this whole situation but that hasn't stopped Beca from piling it on. "What is it?"

"You're going to go back to the Bellas' house act like this whole night hasn't happened-"

"No," You cut off immediately, shaking your head to decline before the full suggestion is proposed. "Nope. Not going to happen. You yourself said they're _dangerous_ and I'm one that doesn't have a death wish!"

"Unless you want to save your friends, this is a must, Chloe," Beca counters, a hint of sternness in her voice and you can tell she is getting frustrated by your lack trust and willingness to cooperate. "You need to act like….one of them, get an insight into their grand plans so I can work around it."

"Why can't you?" you pout, stomping your foot like a child. The thought of putting your life at risk just doesn't seem settling.

"I'm not a Bella, _you_ are."

"Then pledge! We have pledgee week coming up, filled with initiation and all that fun stuff," you suggest, clapping your hands as if it's the perfect plan to get Beca to join.

"No," Beca deadpans, leaving you jaw to hang slack. "Plus, if you forgot already, Gail _knows_ who I am. Who my mother is." Unable to see a way out of this one, your shoulders slump, allowing Beca to continuing explaining what to do. Might as well listen to her since she has experience with witches and all. Also, she happens to be one. "Basically, act like nothing's wrong. I'll be in contact with you and figure this whole thing out. I just….need more time until the blood moon."

Blood moon. Halloween. Alright, that's fifty nine days-two months tops to figure this out. "You'll save my sisters?" you ask with hopeful eyes.

Beca sighs, moving closer to you. "I don't make promises anymore since the last time someone promised me something, they broke it, but I'll try my best, Red."

Admittedly, it wasn't the answer you were hoping for, but you guess it will have to do for now. Beca seems to know her stuff, and unless you make it obvious that you're planning to go against Gail and Kommissar, your life isn't really in danger.

"Okay," you whisper, barely loud enough for even yourself to hear, but luckily, Beca catches it and the corners of her lips curve into a reassuring smile. "Can you tell me what happened to your mom?"

This must've been the wrong thing to say (which is odd because you and Beca are literally talking about witches) and you can sense the stiffness radiating off of Beca's body. Averting her eyes away from yours, she turns her back, heading out of the kitchen without so much of a sound.

"Come on," she mutters without saying it over her shoulder, keeping the back of her head towards you. "Let's get you to bed. I'll drop you off early tomorrow."

You wanted to push the conversation because in all honesty, you were sick of the constant lies and being pushed away. Now, you and Beca have passed that stage in your friendship where things like this should be talked about, and you can blame the almost getting killed by witches to break that iceberg.

But you also have the decency to acknowledge when a topic is painful to talk about for someone. So, you don't push it, despite how bad you wanted to and follow in tow as Beca directs you to the guest room for you to try and get some sleep.

Maybe later on, you'll get through to her somehow but until then, you hope to earn her trust and will do everything in your willpower to prove it.

* * *

It's around two when you and Beca split up from the kitchen; she directs you down the hall where a neatly arranged guest room awaits for your arrival while she is a few doors down. Sleep is a dire need as your eyes start to burn while fighting to keep them open when you're brushing your teeth with a spare toothbrush and toothpaste Beca searched the cabin for.

Spitting out the mouthful of white foam and leaving the bathroom with breath minty fresh, you turn off the room's lights and head for bed. When your body slips onto the mattress and into the sheets covering your legs, all the way up to the bottom of your chin, you sigh peacefully contented and even more comfortable than your own bed back at the Bellas' house.

Grabbing the silver "B" around your neck _, Bellas_ , you think to yourself, staring up at the cabin's ceiling, which really is only a sheet of blackness while the sounds of the ceiling fan whooshing around surrounds the room. Turning your body to the side now, your thoughts start picking at you from left and right.

You really hope they're okay and at the most _safe_. By the way Beca was explaining it, they should be, unless for whatever reason someone pissed off Gail or Kommissar and they turned them into witch stew. They were just being used for a giant cult in the making, hoping to someday take over the world.

No biggie.

It's weird thinking about this; you knew that there was a strange aroma you picked up from the Bellas' new house mothers when you first met them, but never would you of thought they'd be real life witches. Looking back, maybe you should have at least _guessed_ that they would be since thinking that Beca was a legitimate vampire seemed like the only normal and obvious reason as to why she was so standoffish with people.

Not the fact that she is not only a witch hunter, but is as well a witch herself.

A white witch, however, which is the nicer version of what Gail and Kommissar are, but still as a label considered a witch. Is that why you're so deeply attracted to her? Like seriously, everything that she does no matter how small, like smile, or laugh, or roll her eyes is now all of a sudden your kryptonite. You can barely handle your actions and words around the girl, but maybe that has to do with the fact she's a witch.

Unless it's not, and you're just super freaking into the girl and will do anything just to win her over.

Whatever. You toss that though aside for now; there are way bigger things to consider rather than a growing crush you have towards the freshman. The room gets chillier the longer you're laying down in bed and it gets to the point where you can't feel your toes and the tip of your nose is ice when it becomes unbearable.

Getting up from the bed, you exit the room and hope that Beca has an extra blanket for you to steal, which she should have because she's rich and basically pisses money, so a blanket shouldn't be an issue.

Darkness follows you throughout the strip of hallway until you make it to Beca's room where you're greeted with a closed door. Knocking your knuckles lightly against the door, just in case the girl is already asleep, you wait patiently with your arms crossed above your chest, covering up your bare skin from the drift of coldness in the cabin.

At least a minute passes from your first set of knocks and you're still standing in the hallway, facing a closed door that looks like it's not going to be opened anytime soon. So, you knock again and wait the same amount of time before you figure that Beca is either sleeping, or ignoring you.

A chill brushes right pass your skin again, just as you are turning back around to head towards your room and that's the only reason why you return back top the closed door, reach for the doorknob and hope that you could steal an extra blanket to sleep, otherwise you'd die of hypothermia.

Luckily, the door is unlocked and it surprises you to see that the room is dimly lit and no Beca in sight. Suddenly though, another door connected to the room swings open, revealing a shirtless Beca walking around to her dresser in only a black sports bra and the same black skinny jeans from before, taking every ounce and liter of air straight out from your body.

You feel your legs ripple to putty, knees buckling, almost giving out at the glorious sight of her tight stomach muscles when she reaches up to tie her hair in a high ponytail. Her backside is an even better sight when your eyes spy a fairly large shoulder tattoo, but you're too far to tell what it actually is. There's another smaller tattoo closer to the lower end of her back, right above where two defined back dimples sit above the waistline of her jeans.

Guilt starts to nudge at you because it's obvious that you are checking out the freshman with no shame whatsoever, but no matter how wrong you feel about it, averting your eyes away from the exposed amount of pale skin becomes impossible. Lucky for you, your unknown presence goes from unnoticed to a sore thumb as your dreamy state causes you to lean mindlessly into the door you have propped open, slamming the other side straight into the wall of Beca's room, alarming her immediately with a boisterous _bang_.

Beca turns her body around from pulling out a variety of different tops from her drawer, but doesn't look all that frightened about your sudden appearance. Your mind juggles to find the proper set of words while your heart struggles to find a steady pace after being startled by the door and now you're embarrassed and flustered.

And you don't know what's worse; you ruining the perfect moment for checking Beca out, or getting caught red handed checking Beca out.

 _Smooth move, Beale. Very smooth._

Clearing your throat and even adding an extra awkward chuckle, "I-I….uhh," you pause, searching the room for anything that could back up as to why you have been staring at Beca for God knows how long, who is still topless and looking hotter than you have ever had the pleasure of seeing. Focus, Chloe. "Blanket!" you blurt when the main reason as to why you've been wandering around is because you are freezing to death, not because you've been spying on Beca while she is half naked.

Beca quirks an eyebrow; she doesn't seem all that shy about not having a shirt on, which you really wished that she was because if so, it'd make this situation a lot less distracting. She nods her head, dropping the pieces of clothing in her hands and moves to the closet. Grabbing out a quilt of some sort, she closes the amount of distance between the two of you, handing you the oversized blanket.

"It's been awhile since I've had company," she says with a hint of humor, smile tugging up at one corner of her mouth. "I kind of forgot how to treat my guests."

You take the blanket from her hands- _God, is it incredibly warm-_ and mutter a appreciative "thank you," as Beca nods her head in return. "And when's the last time you've had a guest here? I thought I was the special one." Your pout comes out teasingly and it earns a small chuckle from Beca that is hands down the best damn noise ever to hear

The amount of times you repeat to yourself not to glance down to catch the ripples of Beca's abs as she laughs comes out like a broken record and you pray to God that the blush rising up on your cheeks isn't as noticeable as it feels heat wise, which is highly uncharacteristic of you. Something that comes hardly, if not _ever_ is you getting flustered over certain things and most importantly, you rarely blush.

Usually, you're the " _blushie,_ " sending people into a state where they're red in the face and stuttering a series of complete nonsense in one sentence.

Not vice versa.

"Never," Beca answers simply, getting one last look at you before turning back around to her dresser.

As she does so, you catch the tattoos spotted before and can make out the purple lotus flowers on her right shoulder blade and equalizer bars on her lower back. There's also a fairly long scar ranging from the front of her ribs to her back on the left side of her body. You make a mental note to ask her about it later, figuring you've had enough talking for one night.

"So I guess you're pretty special."

The words do some heavy damage on your insides and you decide that you need to get out of this room before you end up mauling this girl. Straightening your posture back up, "thanks again for the...blanket and all." And definitely not for the clear view of your very toned back and stomach and breasts. Nope, definitely not that _at all._

"Yeah. I'll see you tomorrow morning to drop you off." Beca picks up her clothes from the drawer, heading into the bathroom connected to her room. You're just about to walk out of the room until Beca calls your name. "Sorry about tonight. I know it's...hard and fucking crazy to take in," she apologizes over her shoulder and you toss her a smile that hopefully is assuring enough to let her know that even though it's totally bonkers what's going on, you understand that things could be worse.

Or could it?

"Goodnight, Beca," you smile one last time.

"Night, Red."

* * *

The next morning after a somewhat good night's sleep once you gained a comfortable body temperature, it's time to face the truth and go back inside the Bella's house. You're curious to see all the different behaviors after one night, especially learning everything there is to know about Beca and these two women who may or may not be a dangerous threat to your sisters lives, including yourself.

But Beca had walked you through everything after many nights alone doing her own research; their plans regarding the Bellas and the blood moon that is happening on Halloween night.

You also discovered that technically, you're Gail's and Kommissar's prized possession due to the fact that not only are you a pure breed red head with blue eyes, but also a virgin, which is like heroine for witches. It also takes away the title and glowy feeling of it when you take in the fact that you're only so sacred to them because they want and need your heart to finish their grand spell.

But whatever, no big deal.

Oh! And also ten boys to sacrifice during the blood moon, who now are being recruited by the girls you call your sisters and have known for years now and are acting like mega sloozies.

It's only a matter of hours until some hopeless guy around Barden goes missing and instead of worrying about who might have done it before, you'll know exactly who took them and why they've been abducted.

Yep, all of this is really no big deal.

"Red?" Beca voices up, breaking you from your intense thoughts.

You sort of forgot where you were for a second and who you were with. Apparently, you've been mute for majority of the ride while thinking about everything that has happened or is about to, and now you're sitting front and center of the familiar bleach white wood walls that belongs to the Bellas' sorority house.

"You good?" Beca asks, eyeing you worriedly.

You scoff loudly, rolling your eyes. "No I'm not okay! I'm about to go into a house full of witches, who use to be my best friends and sisters! With that, how could anything be _good,_ Beca?" You mock this with a hiss, realization of everything hitting you like a ton of bricks. How were you suppose to go in there and act like everything was just peachy when your life is on the line and being covered up with lies?

"Everything is going to be fine if you do as I say, trust me-"

"How can I trust you?!" You bark harshly and for once, Beca seems taken back by the harshness of your tone. "I mean come on! You lied about your age, what you do for a living and aren't even a real college student! You're not here for an education and you hunt freaking _witches,_ Beca! And oh, adding to that, you're also a witch yourself!"

Beca nods her head, listening to everything you have to yell at her about and it seems like she had been expecting some kind of out burst sooner than later. This makes you feel a little bad for biting her head off the way you did when you know for a fact that these secrets she kept undercover were secrets that were better off that way. Hidden and away from the real world.

You guess in your defense that the fear of being in a life threatening position pretty much demolishes your once bubbly and bright attitude towards things.

Hanging around witches must do that to people.

Your body starts to relax and it doesn't feel like every vein in your face is about to pop any second. "I'm sorry," you apologize genuinely, looking everywhere but at Beca because she is staring so intently at you and it makes your chest flutter that she seems so concerned.

And even a bit regretful that you have to go through all of this.

A bold and surprising gesture causes you to lift your head up to Beca when your hand gets taken into hers and a thumb rubs the back of your hand. "I'm sorry too, for lying and everything," she admits and it's the most vulnerable you have ever seen the freshman before. It's heartbreaking actually, if you are being honest. "I just know that I can't do this without you and now that you know information on literally _everything_ , I'm on both knees, figuratively, asking for help," she begs, steely blue eyes locking with yours and giving off the most sincere vibe.

How were you suppose to say no to a face like that; a face that looks so desperate, yet so determined to make things right again for the sake of Barden? Definitely not you because the longer you look into those dark eyes, the more reeled in you get.

Soaking in the moment, allowing the silence, except for the smooth purr of Beca's engine that floods inside the car around, you hint a small smile at the corners of your mouth that eventually curves into a normal Chloe grin, which is instantly mirrored by Beca who flaunts her trademark half smile.

"Just…tell me what to do. These bitches need to burn." You say and you've never seen Beca glow so proud in the few short weeks you've gotten the chance to learn about her.

You exit the car after you promise Beca to inform her via text any abnormal behavior going around in the house. All you have to do is wait this out a month or so until Halloween.

That's nothing.

And now, you have a well trained witch hunter, who you may or may not have the largest crush on in the history of your past crushes by your side, keeping you safe.

Talking with her head out the window, "keep your cover. You're the only one without suspicion who can get in on all the stuff happening in that witch nest. I need to come up with a plan, but I promise you'll be safe. Especially when you're in my hands."

You smile brightly and Beca's words stick to you like gorilla glue. They're comforting and safe and you believe every last word.

"So," you dangle mischievous, tilting your head to the side, forearms propped on the edge of the car window and looking down at the imaginary rock your feet is kicking. "Since we are kinda… _stuck_ together, you know….fighting _witches_ and all," Your eyebrows and mouth are doing their own erratic thing as they twist and turn in all the ways of trying to be nonchalant about this take while Beca looks the every bit amused. "How about that dinner date I know you're _dying_ to take me out on?"

Beca blinks dumbly at the amount of confidence oozing from your pores, although you feel extremely nervous and a tad bit jittery on the inside. Luckily, you keep that emotion locked up pretty tight to make it go unseen by Beca, the one girl on Earth who can make you feel like a big pile of goo by just one look.

After a moment of silence, way more than you would like to endure, Beca responds in the form of a throaty laugh; a laugh so sincere and strong that the corners of her eyes crinkle so tightly that her dark blue orbs are practically sucked right inside.

And this kinda makes up for the inevitable rejection you're about to be tossed with.

 **Again**.

"I don't date my _co-workers."_ First of all, Beca's response is highly unbelievable and that wry smirk on her face she says it through has enough force to put you into cardiac arrest. On the top of her head, she slides down her aviators, roaring her engine with a press to the foot and you grip at the material keeping you up because the sight and vibration of the car makes your knees buckle. "However, I will see you later, _acquaintance_." She gives you a military salute, crooked smile still in place and still having the same effect on your body.

"Don't date co-workers, huh? We will see about that," is what you mutter under breath when backing away from the car, just loud enough for only you to hear.

You wave Beca away with a similar smile as she speeds off down the street in her super nice car that you've had the honors of riding in. Also, not to brag or anything, but you happen to still be wearing a pair of her sweats and a black and white baseball tee she gave you after your shower last night, knowing you didn't have any extra clothes. Never would you have expected to say this, but thank God you got drenched in witches blood because now, you have two pieces of clothing that smells exactly like Beca.

And truth is, it's a _delightful_ smell.

"Chloe!" You hear you name from the front of the house and see Aubrey exiting out from inside through the front door. She jogs up to you, looking a lot more friendly and upbeat then you have ever seen her before. The smile she has from point A to point B, where she is now standing in front of you is out of the ordinary and kind of freaking you out.

The only person that should be a big ball of sunshine this early is you. And maybe Jessica, but even then, she's not in any way shape or form on your level of bubbly behavior. Emily Junk is a close runner up, as well.

"Holy... _boobs_!" You gawk at the amount of cleavage Aubrey is showing in her maroon button up at this time of day, only covering your face when she gets closer, just in case one of them pops you in the eye. Seriously, it is a hazard. Either she has been hanging around Stacie too much, or that rum Beca was talking about still has a firm hold on her mind, making her do unimaginable stuff to her body that's out of this world for a Posen.

Aubrey glances down to her chest, shrugging innocently and quite proud of her appearance. There's even a flaunting shimmy she sends you, giving an even larger view of her cleavage, if possible. You, on the the other hand, can't for the life of you look away from the whole get up, flabbergasted at the high waisted black skirt and ankle breaker high heels that even you didn't know Aubrey owned a pair of.

She looked _hot,_ not that she wasn't hot before with her conservative clothes and books surrounding her.

But this is _way_ too hot for Aubrey Posen.

For Christ sakes she looks like a naughty schoolgirl that someone would dress up as on Halloween; one that are only seen in the fantasies of teenage boys.

"What happened to you last night?!" Aubrey asks in a half screech, half giggling type of way, grabbing your forearms with her hands and breaking you away from your intense stare at her boobs.

You don't really know what to say, so nothing comes out right away. _Dammit_ , you should've thought of a good excuse beforehand.

"These aren't your clothes," Aubrey comments suspiciously, plucking the collar area of the baseball tee you're wearing. Then, like a light bulb in a pitch black room, every feature and area on her body brightens as a devilish smirk forms on her mouth. "Who's the lucky one you hooked up with?"

"Beca," you blurt abruptly. Why you thought that using her name as a cover up was a good idea is so far beyond you, but it's already out before you can lock it up and unlike what you're expecting, maybe small harsh insults about Beca's size and alternative wardrobe, Aubrey's smirk only doubles in size, if humanly possible.

"She's a hot one, Chlo. Good job," Aubrey finishes with a flirty wink and the comment takes you so off guard that your spit goes down the wrong pipe, causing you to have a coughing fit while also hacking up a lung in the process. Not too concerned that you're currently dying, Aubrey continues, biting her bottom lip seductively, "wonder what she thinks of blondes."

"Excuse me?!" You're able to screech this out after calming down your coughs and for a split second, you think you might have heard the wrong thing coming from someone who was anti-Beca from the very start.

"All I need to do is get my hands on her and she'd be _hooked_." Okay, you totally heard what you thought and honestly, you can't believe the things coming out of your best friend's mouth. You don't know if you're more disturbed by the comments, or infuriated by them, knowing that Aubrey knows for sure that you have a _major_ crush on the freshman.

Then it clicks, about the Rum Beca was talking about last night and it all makes sense. Aubrey would never even think about having sex with Beca, let alone experience a hug; she hates her for crying out loud! But right now, her brain is trashed and is being control by this potion that Gail and Kommissar created.

And the only reason why she wants to get her hands on Beca is because a girl like that, one who is trying to stop their cult from forming would be a wonderful addition to witch stew, which under your supervision will not happen.

"Hopefully you didn't go too far with her. Our mistresses wouldn't be too happy about that," Aubrey says, disregarding what she said before, though your blood is boiling up on the inside at the comment you just can't seem to toss aside.

 _Of course they wouldn't be happy about that; they want my heart!_ You try to cover up your scowl directed towards Aubrey, who has her attention focused at the house, keeping these inner thoughts at bay inside your head where they belong. If you were hit with this sudden question before, maybe like yesterday, perhaps, you'd have a hurricane of questions as to what Aubrey meant.

A bell rings from the inside and she squeals with pure joy, grabbing your hands in a way too cheerful motion.

Ew, is this how you act normally around people? Were you this disgustingly happy all the time?

Emily comes bouncing outside in a similar wear that Aubrey is so innocently flaunting, legs out in the open and for you to only gawk at. She waves at the two of you, bouncing on her tippy toes with a megawatt smile. At least the abundance amount of joy in that girl's body didn't get washed away from the weird potion Gail and Kommissar put into her bloodstream.

"Come on. Breakfast is ready." Aubrey takes your hand, pulling you towards the house in a gesture that would've came natural for you two, but this time, it feels different. Incredibly different.

You see the house, that's barely lit from the inside and catch one of those stupid freaking black cats that are as mean as a snake eye you down. Normally, you're a cat person-actually, you're an animal person, but those cats are terrifying, and so is the Bellas' house as the eerie aroma only becomes stronger the closer Aubrey tugs you to the door. As you get closer, you can see through the downstairs window of all your sisters circled around the table like they were performing some sort of creepy seance to summon the dead.

If you had any form of intelligence, which you have a lot of, you'd rip your arm free from Aubrey's hold and basically sprint over to the campus police station and claim that the Bellas' house is being taken over by a bunch of witches. But Beca needs your help for this one, and it's true, you're the only one who can enter this house, act completely normal without any suspicion.

So with that, you buckle up, follow Aubrey inside and hold your breath, because you have absolutely no idea what's in store for you these next few weeks.

* * *

 **Super excited to write next chapter! There, Beca will teach Chloe how to fight, shoot and some more weird things happen around the Bellas' house. :)**

 **Let me know what you guys think!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Two chapters (one today, one tomorrow, maybe) because I suck, and haven't updated this story since the 1900's :)**

 **(I DO NOT OWN PITCH PERFECT)**

* * *

 **Chapter Six: I'm Just a College Student**

Entering the Bellas' house raises every single hair on your body and then some at the eerie aroma you get a whiff of once your feet fully hit the wooden tile in the house.

And though the inside looks _mostly_ the same-except for the newly added, nineteenth century paintings that are definitely worth quite the big bucks, the vintage, old lady scent and sudden darkness to every room, the house has a terrifying vibe to it that almost causes you to march right back out of the front door, drop out of school and fly back down to Tampa without any warnings whatsoever because this is something that you **can't** do.

You've already came up with the several excuses spurred up inside your head that you'd respond with when your parents ask why you're home from college so early after only being in Georgia for not even a full month. The possibilities range from telling them that you got extremely homesick and the thought of being away any longer will physically _destroy_ your already brittle heart into a million, tiny little pieces with no possible way of building it back up together.

Dramatic? Possibly, but you have to admit your mother would absolutely _love_ the idea of you being back home, chances are she'd probably cry tears of joy and not even be mad about you dropping out of school, which works as the best excuse in the books.

And also an award for the best dramatic performance displayed, _hello_.

Other options include that you want to pick up school down in Florida where you'd be closer to home and far away from the mess happening at Barden currently. Maybe even pulling out the "I might fail Russian Lit" card since that one seems like the most accurate excuse when taking in the fact the class is even harder than originally expected.

But _definitely_ not telling them that you're living in a house full of witches, who plan on taking over the world with the army they happen to be building with your former (past maybe) sisters and are currently on the chopping block to get your heart ripped out, have it used in their giant, witchcraft spell to become immortal and probably eat you like Jeffrey Dahmer.

Okay, maybe not _eat_ you, persee, but something equally as horrible as that-which requires your life to end in a _gruesome_ , messy way. Now saying this would straight up give your mom an aneurysm, or even worse, a heart attack.

And though leaving Barden seems like the best bet here (and also the safest and **smartest,** hellooooo? You do not have a death wish wanting to come true) the thought of leaving your sisters behind with two woman disguised as Satan twins _kills_ you. Maybe even more than the thought of living in a witch filled nest that sky rockets your levels of paranoia and anxiety through the roof.

Because it's not their fault that they have suddenly become the most promiscuous living beings on campus, seducing any male species even if the interest in them isn't present. And they definitely can't help the fact that they're being brainwashed and controlled like hot bots by two women they _assumed_ were trustworthy.

Turns out not everyone is gifted with your expert ability to judge a person and know when the _Hell_ they can and cannot be trusted.

 _Sigh_ , _why_ _me_?

Out of everyone else in the world-everyone else in Barden, why did fate _have_ to choose you, a senior in college? Graduation is right around the corner, couldn't it have waited until _after_ to infest the campus with witches?

Like when you've already graduated?

It's also not a shock while processing your decisions here that Beca also comes to mind.

 _Sigh again_ , Beca Mitchell.

College freshman in her secret life. Mysterious, moody alternative girl who fell from the sky and gifted Barden with her sarcastic charm and whit.

 _Beca Mitchell._

Talented, famous- _really freaking famous-_ music producer and DJ in real life, who lives in the heart of Los Angeles and also happens to kill witches on her free time with her choice of wide variety weapons, and or her skilled martial arts and judo.

 **Beca** freaking **Mitchell**.

The _same_ girl who had made a grand appearance out of nowhere, walked her gorgeous self straight into your life, three sixty spun it around and honestly, right now, you don't know whether to be upset by it, or completely _elated_.

Because here's the thing, your life wasn't a jam packed _action_ movie with exciting things happening every other day, but to counter this, your life wasn't exactly _boring,_ either. Yes, you never had to fight off horror movie witches-except for the drunk, provocative ones at Halloween parties who just didn't understand their limits- or experience a real life car chase with giant, real life guns and explosions and all.

But because of Beca, you got to experience all of these things you would've never thought you'd be able to, such as touch a loaded gun, see a witch get her head blown right off her body and then for it to disintegrate into thin air, and also get attacked by one of those ugly _bitches_.

And that's not even the end of the book right there.

There's still loads of chapters left to the rebellious badass' book and guess what, you get the main role in starring in them with her and the thought of that-even though it may seem weird and perhaps _suicidal_ \- excites you on a whole other level that for the life of you can _not_ comprehend.

Also, hanging out with _thee_ hottest girl on campus, **by far,** isn't the worst thing in the world, even though by hanging out it totally means doing some crazy, supernatural work to defeat a bunch of witches and not exactly a date at a coffee shop where a steamy makeout session afterwards would be on the agenda, depending on how the date went; an idea that you're practically _begging_ for.

Actually, it's pretty freaking great once you get pass the whole _killing_ dilemma, though you totally wish Beca would at least _fake_ having a thing for you just so it'd make you feel a little bit better about your _ginormous_ crush you have on her.

It seems like Beca is hard headed and firm with her words when she says that she doesn't date, nor is really looking for anyone _to date,_ which totally freaking blows and admitting it to yourself makes your heart cramp in ways it's never experienced, which is an entirely new feeling. But that doesn't completely eliminate your chances since you're always up for a good challenge, and Beca is basically a walking sudoku on expert mode.

Which then makes Beca even sexier as she plays hard to get and all.

 _Oh boy._

What in the world have you gotten yourself into?

It's Beca who is the final reason to convince you to stay, which then urges you to walk up to the porch, knees trembling and a shake to your hand when you reach up to unlock the door.

Upon entering the house, you've expertly made your way inside without being notice by the other sisters and, of course, the two house mothers from Hell. Except when briefly catching Aubrey outside earlier, your presence as of right now while you tiptoe up the stairs to sneak off into your room has been ghostly and extreme _spy like_.

Oh how Beca would be proud of you.

Making it to the top of the Bellas' house where your room is located on the other end of the hallway, you half jog, half sprint until your back is colliding with the door to close it shut, breath choppy and heart practically thumping like a yo-yo from your chest at the thought of interacting with one of the Bellas, or even worse, _Gail_.

You think about locking yourself in you room until Halloween comes around, then Beca can work her magic (literally) and get rid of the witch virus spreading through the sorority and your sisters so you can go back to swooning over Beca and living life as a normal, innocent, smitten college girl.

That's all you really want to do right now because let's face it, terrified doesn't even come close to how you're feeling about walking around this house right now, but it's also just a wish that can't happen, nor is it possible.

 _"Keep your cover. You're the only one without suspicion who can get in on all the stuff happening in that witch nest."_ Beca's words hit you like a ton of bricks as you conclude that your actions since you've stepped foot in the house-even talking with Aubrey- have done everything _opposite_ of keeping your cover.

So realizing this, you take a deep breath, desperately trying to collect your sanity and get your shit together because whether you like it or not, Gail and Kommissar aren't just going to pack up and leave without the one thing they came for. No, they're here to stay and they're here for blood, but you, as well, are also here to stop them from doing that (hopefully).

God, you're _praying_ that you and Beca can stop them.

"Act natural, Chloe," you try to coach yourself through it, but as you do, the increase of beats from your heart already starts to skyrocket at the thought of leaving the safety of your room and venturing down to the kitchen where the entire house is currently resigned. "Act completely... _normal..._ and everything is going to be okay." Convincing this is challenging, but you shrug off the extra jitters and nerves to the point where you think you might actually be okay to walk out of the room.

That is until you, unprepared as always, decide to open the door and is greeted front and center with the once precious and smol freshman, Emily Junk, and you basically feel your human skeleton rip completely out from your skin with how high you jump at the unannounced guest. You thought that you were ready to take on the inevitable downstairs, but obviously you were far from it with the stunt you just pulled.

And that's a perfect example of how _not_ to keep it cool, _Jesus_.

"Hi!" Emily, for the most part, doesn't comment about your near panic attack that was a close call to send you straight into cardiac arrest and keeps her bubbly, chipper tone while you back up into the hallway wall, as far away as possible from the freshman. "What are you doing, silly!? Everyone is waiting for you downstairs!"

"What?" You breathe out winded and still possibly stuck in shock mode while your hand clenches at your heart to slow the erratic beating.

Emily doesn't answer and only smiles at your frantic state without any questions as to why you're panting like you just got done running a marathon. Instead, she reaches down for your wrist and tugs you without permission in the direction towards the stairs like a dang ragdoll. Interacting with the Bellas and house mothers are coming right around the corner and once again, the thought of it happening brings your nerves back stronger than before, to the point where you might honestly pass out.

Or cry.

Two are both valid possibilities.

You keep your cool, however, since you have an awful lot to make up since the second encounter with one of your sisters almost blew your cover, so you allow the tugging and follow quietly in tow while your eyes count every step and ears listen to the rhythmic "clacking" sounds from the impressively high heeled shoes the freshman is strutting in.

Head house sister mode for you clicks on when taking in the appearance of what Emily is wearing and how the thought of boys around campus _ogling_ her body with the amount of skin being shown in a not so appropriate sundress makes you want to _vomit_.

Also, it lights a fire under your ass and you feel the sudden urge to start a riot and neuter any boy in sight.

Anyone else in the house, fine, go out in public half naked. You care, but not enough to fight them about it.

But little _Emily_? Basically already the little sister that you've never had, yeah no. That's something definitely not okay.

Arriving downstairs where literally _everyone_ but you is circled around the dining room table in what looks like assigned seats, you catch an empty seat next to Aubrey and assume the seat is yours, due to the fact that out of the other twenty chairs around the table, all of them are taken by OG Bellas and a few of the new girls who have moved in already.

"Glad you could make it, Chloe," Kommissar greets when your appearance is seen, her tone having a hint of sarcasm in it, but her grossly fake smile that basically touches her ears covers up the sarcasm and makes it almost sound believable.

 _Almost_.

Everyone is sickly sweet once you fully enter the kitchen and begin to speed walk towards your designated seat because the amount of attention you have received upon entering is _unbearably_ uncomfortable. It makes your skin crawl with all eyes on you and the extra, sinister smiles makes you feel like a small kitten in a cage full of rabid lions that are ready to pounce at any second.

And for the first time ever, you feel very, **very** unsafe being stuck in a room with all the sisters you love and have spent all your entire college career growing up with and it's a feeling you absolutely _hate_.

Things start to progress surprisingly... _normal_ , for the most part, and you're more than a little bit relieved to see actual food laid out on the table that is _edible_ and on display for everyone to grab. Three fourths of you was expecting some conjuncted mixture of nasty things in the witch world; frog eyes, horse pee and all that other repulsive stuff, combined into a potion that you'd have to gag down to keep up the facade you're putting on.

Just the thought of it makes you want to gag and honestly, if that was the case, the temptation to fly back to Tampa became even stronger.

You're lucky this time around, though, and are able to eat everything picked out without a wince, or flinch in taste, which is the perfect remedy to your high levels of hunger prior and after the bitch of a hangover you fought off all morning, no thanks to Beca and the simple grilled cheese she made last night that did really _nothing_ to absorb the poison Gail made you choke down.

Unfortunately for you, living with a bunch of witches brings out the weirdness of it all and it's shown when the same potion like drink from last night is brought out in a pitcher carried by Gail and like fresh, human flesh appearing in a room full of hungry zombies, all your sisters hover in line to receive a cup of it.

That is everyone except _you_ , who can barely keep down the eggs and bacon at even the sight of that blood colored liquid that churns your stomach every blink.

You avoid the rum like the Black Plague without drawing too much attention to yourself when you politely decline any offers. Nose plugging is almost the last resort when Aubrey takes a big gulp of the thick liquid before turning her head to chat with you, blowing off a cloud of her mouth's newly developed scent across your face and it hits your senses like a semi truck on the highway.

Or garbage truck.

That seems like a better analogy.

"You didn't get anything to drink, Chlo." Aubrey studies when she catches you drinking out of your favorite yellow cup with clear liquid inside, _water_ , unlike the rest of the girls around the table.

Hydrate or die ladies.

At the announcement, it seems like she spoke through a megaphone when everyone inside the kitchen breaks out of their own individual conversations to stare you down with wide eyes and blank facial expressions like a piece of meat. With the sudden attention under the uncomfortable, stereo static buzzing around, panic starts to build and beads of sweat can be felt forming at your hairline as you try to scramble up an excuse to explain why you haven't been drinking Gail's drink like everyone else.

Instead of slipping out " _I'd rather drink bleach than drink that concoction made by Gail,"_ you opt for a "I plan on getting some later before I go out for a walk." Luckily, it's enough to slide by all your sisters and both house mothers as they continue on with their side conversation about God knows what. Guess it's true they're not only walking, talking martians, but also extremely gullible as well.

"Now Chloe, what in the world are you wearing to breakfast?" Well, looks like you spoke to soon about everyone getting off your back as this little comment is dropped by Kommissar, again, who isn't even subtle about the sharp judging looks on her features while she eyes your outfit.

Glancing down at the plain baseball tee and black running shorts Beca let you borrow last night, you nonchalantly shrug your shoulders, unable to understand why there is even a problem with what you're wearing to make a comment in front of everyone about it.

Okay, maybe you're a little... _under dressed_ compared to everyone else who is wearing clothes from a runway show and they all have their hair curled, straightened and all look flawlessly _amazing_ , but in your defense, it's early and no one at this hour should look as hot as your sisters do, plain and simple.

Gail nods her head at your shrugging response, sensing that nothing else is going to be said about your casual choice of wear this fine morning. How were you suppose to respond to this? Getting defensive would've increased your chances to get killed, not really knowing a witch's temper, and agreeing to it would've made it seem like you are the runt out of the group. Both equally as unappealing.

"I do hope you follow the lines of the dress code here at the Bellas the next time you greet us with your presence, Chloe, from here on out." Her tone is disgustingly fake and her smile to match is even worse, which makes the combo almost enough to make you puke. You'd rather down a gallon of that _nasty_ rum than experience a grin like that.

Apparently, you didn't get the memo of a new dress code going around the Bellas' house and that is dress like a totally _bimbo_ and show off as much skin as possible without crossing the line. No, you're not a catholic school girl who is reserved all the time; you like to experiment with all sorts of clothes, give a little skin here, a little cleavage there, but not only that, you enjoy your bum, stay in bed lazy days where you walk around in the ugliest pair of sweats and a baggy t-shirt just as much as dressing in your favorite dress.

But turns out, you're no longer allowed to be comfortable and that line, which was drawn since the moment you received two new house mothers, apparently, has been crossed.

What line is that?

Who knows, because with the way things are looking around the house, more specifically your sisters' appearances should be borderline _illegal_.

Whatever. Not like there is much you can do or say in this scenario without it coming out fishy.

So, dealing with the unnecessary criticism, biting your tongue not to snap, you nod your head after awhile of not responding and think to yourself at how insanely crazy the rules in this house have turned. The best option here is not fighting the house mothers' crazy demands to highlight the Bellas' wardrobe, because in reality, you know the main reason to the promiscuous clothing and you wouldn't want to blow your cover and ruin whatever plans Beca is brainstorming.

Oh God, you at least _hope_ that Beca has something mustering up inside that gorgeous head of hair she has.

As the clock ticks by, the effect of the rum is visibly shown more and more while evaluating your sisters and how they exchange in conversations with each other. Most of the conversations are about this upcoming rush and which eye candy they're choosing as their plus one, but you already know that whoever they end up choosing will 1). Be a stupid male who is gullible enough to think he has a chance with hooking up with one of the hottest girls on campus and 2). Be the main ingredient in an all you can eat witch _buffet_.

And is this plus one mandatory for everyone, because if so, can Beca be your plus one since the thought of bringing anyone else is one you want to avoid?

The longer you study, the weirder it gets to observe, then the harder it is for you to sit still and act like nothing's wrong when there most definitely is something wrong in more ways than one; one of the many problems being that you're watching the sisters you've grown up with be brainwashed and controlled like a puppet dolls on stage without any choice whether they want to or not.

It's sick _torture_ , if you're being honest, seeing the affect in person and watching all of your friends' brains turn to mush under the potion. Aubrey is all of a sudden talking boys instead of schoolwork, college applications and better yet, blowing off that school work and college applications to hang out with _whomever_ it may be that is clearly more important.

Jessica doesn't even talk about her boyfriend, Jake, nor does she acknowledge that they are even dating in the first place as she gushes over Jason, the below average looking guy on the totem pole she was all over at the mixer. She explains that he's going to the rush next weekend and Gail and Komissar show full enthusiasm at his RSVP, mentally crossing off on male they need for their giant witch spell.

Terra and Sindy announce two more guests attending the Bella's rush, Dax and Rex, the twins from the mixer as well are also scheduled to attend, which earns the same response from the two house mothers as the check off two more guests off the list.

Overall, it's disturbing to watch. Oh how you wish you could do something for them instead of just sitting there calmly, acting like nothing about this is wrong when in reality, the whole place and conversations happening are so far _wrong_.

Rambling up an excuse to leave breakfast before you end up passing out, or throwing up from how overwhelmed you've become and the increasing bubble of pressure in your chest growing against your sternum by the second, you march yourself outside where you know it is safe and for the first time in an hour, you take a big inhale of fresh air from outside of the house and release everything in a single breath.

At first, you expected to be able to handle everything going on inside that house, but now that you've seen and gotten a taste of how everyone is being treated and forced into things without a say, you've underestimated your strength to act natural about the situation. You're almost positive that if you have to step foot back into that house, you'll end up going insane, then what would the point of saving everyone be?

And at that thought, you whip out your phone to call the only person in your contacts that can help you out in a situation like this.

Or at least _try_ to.

You raise your phone up to your ear while listening to the ringing through the speakers. The thought of texting the freshman never really came to mind, which you instantly regret as the ringing continues and you're positive Beca isn't going to answer. Hell, it was hard enough to get the girl to _text_ you, let alone give you her damn _phone number_. The chances of her answering your call after parting ways only an hour ago seems pretty slim to none.

But just as your hope starts to fade, the ringing does as well and Beca's voice appears through the other end of the call, surprising you with her voice. " **Chloe?"** she skips the "hello" and dives straight into the worried, tone that is visible in her voice. " **What's going on?"**

This is difficult to answer due to the fact that you are doing _loads_ better now that you've gotten away from the mess inside and escaped from everyone, but you're also sure that passing out stone cold on the sidewalk is still a very high option on your list of what to do next.

"I don't think I can do this, Beca," comes your God honest reply as you feel your heartbeat pounding through your eardrums and levels of anxiety inching up your throat when thinking about the situation hitting an all time high. "I-I-I don't...I don't feel safe in there! A-And they _know_! Oh my God, they know _everything_!"

Beca releases a heavy sigh; one that sounds like it should be accompanied with a pinch to the bridge of the nose, or even an eyeroll would make up for the amount of nonverbal annoyance. " **Chlo, you're fine. I know that this isn't easy to do, but there's really no other choice-"**

"You're right. Living in a house full of witches isn't exactly a walk in the park, Mitchell!" Beca isn't even all the way through with her sentence before you cut her off with a harsh snap, a hint of unfamiliar sarcasm lacing each word as the venom slips pass your mouth unintentionally.

Frazzled could be a factor as to why you're so sassy with Beca, who is giving you vibes that she assumes you're the type of girl who can't handle a little bit of a challenge. _Terrified_ is also another factor that is ringing like church bells on a Sunday morning, repeatedly, that could be the main cause to your rapid change in behavior.

Just the thought of _faking_ around a group of girls who could possibly find out that you're posing and snap at any moment with your head on the chopping block is enough to disintegrate all the loads of bubbly personality and upbeat attitude you have stored in your body from the last twenty three years.

It takes a while for Beca to answer, which suddenly makes you regret saying anything at all instead of biting your tongue and playing along with Beca's rules about the house. Eventually after radio static on either ends of the phone call lasts for a while, Beca apologizes, " **I'm sorry, Chloe,"** and it's the most genuine sounding apology that you have ever heard, making you feel even worse about barking at the freshman.

Now look who is the asshole?

" **I...if you don't like...feel safe or whatever, I can come get you-or like, you can do whatever you want-go home even where it's safe."** For her intense, apex predator persona, Beca's voice is low and fragile, barely above a whisper, really, but is loud enough to crack all the corners of your heart at how vulnerable she sounds. Also, how it seems like she doesn't want you to leave, either. " **The last thing I want you to do is something that I force without you wanting to fully do it, and knowing how dangerous Gail and Kommissar really are, I completely understand why you'd want to stay out of it..."**

Beca's sentence kind of trails off with a hint of a " _but_ " coming, but as you wait for it, it never comes. It makes you wonder why there was a brief pause as if Beca had more to say and what it was that she had left on the tip of her tongue. But like a lot of questions you have for the freshman and her crazy, _supernatural_ world she lives in, they're left unanswered.

"No," you respond to Beca's suggestions with a hesitant shake to your head that is only felt and seen by you.

Leaving, of course, sounds like a cruise trip to Hawaii right about now, knowing that you'd be _long gone_ from these witches surrounding every corner of the Bellas' house.

But leaving Beca sort of feels like a stab to the heart with a machete, though you don't fully understand why since the girl still won't give you the time of day to learn personal stuff about each other, mostly her since she's the one prone to lying all the damn time.

Something tells you that almost getting killed by a witch; a girl named Gretchen, who you actually lived in the same house with-called your _sister-_ and getting attacked by a few more of those hideous creatures really bonds two people together, the _real_ icebreaker, which makes it unacceptable that Beca is avoiding your human interaction like the plague.

But whatever.

Again, you're not bitter about it or anything.

"I'll...stay," you don't sound very sure that this is what you really want to do, but on the inside, you couldn't be _more_ sure. Something about burning these witches down, giving a repeat in history the Salem Trials and saving your sisters gives you a heighten in arousal for doing bad things- _bad things_ that you yourself aren't familiar with.

And something about doing it all with Beca makes it even more exciting.

" **Good,"** There's a sense of relief in Beca's tone and it's the quick response you get from the girl that tugs a smile at the corners of your mouth. Whether you believe it half the time, or none at all, Beca, deep, **deep** down enjoys your company and no one can tell you otherwise. " **I'll pick you up tomorrow for some needed training. Once classes start back up, we will destinate a time for us to meet."**

"Okay-wait, did you say _training_?" You try to imagine the possibilities of what Beca has in mind for training day; the options all end in very intense, very _dangerous_ training, with more than a few bumps and bruises along the way that you're destined to get. Knowing Beca and her history with witches, fighting and shooting, the thought of doing anything in comparison to an action movie churns your stomach like water in a toilet bowl.

Avoiding your question like she didn't hear it-or at least that's what you're telling yourself since Beca ignoring your question is a lot more painful than her just missing it-Beca orders not necessarily loud, but loud enough for you to hear the importance, " **remember to keep your guard, but also blend in. Call me if anything happens."**

The call ends before you can even process a response. You figure that bugging Beca and having a minor mental breakdown was the last thing the freshman expected to experience not even a full three hours into dropping you off, but regardless of how pathetic you feel, the call somewhat helped ease your skittish nerves when thinking about the inevitable (and slightly embarrassing) walk of shame back into the Bellas' house after performing a minor freak out.

Shoving your device back into your pockets, you inhale a deep breath in to fill your lungs to maximum capacity and exhale all of the air in a single exhale, prepared mentally and emotionally to conquer your sisters again.

"Hi!"

Just kidding.

Forget about being calm and relaxed.

"Jesus Christ!" At Emily's once again unannounced surprise appearance as you turn around, you jump about ten feet in the air for the second time today. Maybe a heart attack will take you out of your misery before you can even make it to the bloodmoon with the route you're taking so far.

"Why are you so jumpy?" Emily is smiling like she's teasing you about acting like a cat with a cucumber behind its back, but all you can repeat in your head is _abort, abort abort_! The last thing you need right now is to blow your cover because your own shadow scares the _bejesus_ out of you.

You don't really have an excuse that Emily would buy as to why you're so jumpy and most definitely not witch material, but you catch her holding a clear solo cup full of that familiar, toxic maroon liquid and decide that's an easy way to change the subject.

Pointing down at the cup in Emily's hands, "hopefully that's for me because I was just about to come inside for some!" Not that you want to even hold the poision because the smell is already radiating up to your senses, no thanks to the slight breeze in Georgia right now, but the way Emily lights up like a Christmas tree and hands it right over is kind of a breath of fresh air.

"Oh you take it!" Emily happily pushes the drink into your shaking hands, luckily the tremble in your grip isn't noticeable enough for her to catch. "I've already had enough this morning!"

You curve a sheepish smile before examining the drink from a higher POV; an imaginary skull and crossbones basically floating above the surface of the liquid and you really wish lightning (even though there isn't a cloud in sight) would flash down and strike you, so you didn't have to endure this absolutely _foul_ concoction.

"Thanks," you mumble in your best attempt to sound grateful while also trying your hardest to keep your breakfast down at the thought that now you have to drink this nastiness _again_ without it being suspicious, especially when Emily is eagerly watching you like a hawk, as if she _knows_ something is up.

Having no other choice, you lift the cup up to your lips, digging your nails into the palms of your hands to fight the urge to reach up and plug your nose from the God awful stench. Baby sips is key and you're crossing your fingers, toes, eyes, and _anything_ else that can be crossed that it won't affect you like it did last night.

Without Beca here to help you through it-it is not only scary with how your body might react, but also highly disappointing without the yummy eye candy.

"Em, Chloe!" A voice rings through the front entrance of the house and it's Jessica hollering outside, sundress barely covering the tops of her thighs and if at any other moment, you'd scold her about it. "We are heading to the football game as a group, so it's time to get ready, a message from our Mistresses! And by getting ready, it's mostly directed towards you, Chloe!" She points an accusing finger in your direction, once again bashing your outfit with a sickly fake grin.

 _Oh fantastic, more bonding time with Satan number one and two,_ you think to yourself, fighting back the cringe at the thought. And ouch. Can we, like, stop with the sharp jabs and insults against your choice of wear this early?

Luckily with Jessica's announcement from the house, it tore Emily's gaze off you for a brief second, which you took right away and spit out all the remains of the drink pooling in your mouth onto the lawn and proceeded to chuck the drink as far away as possible, just in time to fake like you've just chugged it all down when Emily's attention is glued back onto you. Now that's something to be impressed by, especially when Emily doesn't question how you finished the brim filled drink so fast.

You shake your head to decline your attendance to the whole football game that apparently has been planned without your say. Last thing you want to do is participate in anymore faking than you already need to. "I really shouldn't," you murmur, hand that isn't holding the newly empty plastic cup nervously rubs at the back of your neck when all eyes are boring into yours. "I already have a _ton_ of homework for my classes that I want to get a head start on." Which isn't _completely_ a lie. Russian Lit is the only culprit here to thank as to why you have an excuse to stay in instead of go out to the game.

Out of nowhere, Aubrey slides her appearance up next to Jessica, face blank, as if she's been insulted, or slapped and she's blinking dumbly at your response that she was able to catch throughout the house. How did she even hear you? Now that was a question you cannot answer, but a hunch is telling you that it was because of her newly developed, super freaky, witch senses.

"No," is Aubrey's deadpan response and she's firmly shaking her head with it. "Absolutely not. Homework can wait. Here at the Bellas, we do things together as _sisters_. That is something you should already know, Chloe."

At least the whole Bellas tradition about holding each others' ropes and doing things as one big family unit hasn't gone to waste with all the other new stuff Kommissar and Gail have brought to the table. Especially if it's _Aubrey freaking Posen_ who is declining the chance to catch up on school work and instead go to a football game.

And now you look like a complete jackass because you tried to choose homework over your sisters, which is something not okay in your book.

 _God_ , everything is so weird and you don't know how to really handle it all.

"I was totally just... _kidding_ ," you snort awkwardly, the nerves only building higher the longer Aubrey's glare is glued to you. "Me do homework? _Psh_ , yeah right." The hole you're digging for yourself is only getting deeper by the second as you make this entire situation ten times more awkward than it should be.

"Good," Aubrey's face finally morphs into a beaming grin and you no longer feel paralyzed by her intense glare. For now and hopefully never again the scolding has stopped. Perhaps you learned your lesson when trying to put something above the Bellas. "Now get ready! You're pretty stinkin' cute, Chlo, but that outfit is hideous! We are leaving for the tailgate in a hour." She claps her hands excitedly before turning her back and skipping back inside with Jessica following instantly.

You think you pull an eye muscle from how hard you had to keep in an eye roll at Aubrey's words.

"I'll help!" Emily's dripping excitement to whatever she is offering to is pouring out from every pore on her body when she reaches out with both hands and locks her surprisingly strong grip around your elbows. What she is helping you with is far and beyond what you could ever think, but something about getting help from one of your sisters, who is practically walking around naked, publicly, is unsettling.

"Greattttttt," you say this as enthusiastic as possible with the best fake smile on your face that you had the strength to muster up before you're dragged in tow towards the house.

 _Act natural Chloe._

 _Don't blow your cover._

 _Stay calm and everything will be alright._

* * *

Saturday morning football games used to be one of your favorite sports to watch live at Barden, especially since the Knights were the best in conference, dominating anyone they played by double points. Maybe it's still enjoyable, even though you're showing a lot more skin than you feel comfortable with and are surrounded by _every_ male attending Barden, who have heart eyes and their junk all up in your personal space with the group of twenty something girls, who you have the pleasure of calling your sisters.

The whole thing is weird and though you've gained some sturdy ground and aren't so jumpy around them compared to this morning, the whole brainwashed transformation going on with girls you've known for years now is hard to sit back and watch without being able to do anything about it. Also, playing the part and acting like you are _also_ being brainwashed from the rum is not only hard, but painful to watch without cringing at yourself.

For Christ sakes, you're dressed in the tiniest pair of shorts you had in your closet and a borderline crop top, forest green Barden t-shirt Stacie happily loaned over and you couldn't say anything about it while Emily tossed each piece of clothing on your bed left and right, all for you to gawk at and try to process the reality that you'll be wearing this in _public_.

So yes, maybe you aren't, exactly, having the time of your life scorching under the beaming sun (the only plus to wearing hardly any clothes is the tan that will come with it) and being forced to gloat about the Bellas' rush that's coming up to everyone who is everyone so the turn out is through the roof's maximum capacity.

And also your " _mistresses_ " have options and extra backup plans when it comes to their choice in boys to take part in their little spell that no one but you knows about.

But hey, that's a secret on the down low and should be kept that way, which is why you participate in all the cheesy school cheers about strong defense, the bouncing around on the bleachers that are seconds away from breaking, the extreme yelling as you cheer on the all players throwing themselves around and the over the top ditziness to blend in just like everyone else.

And so far, things are smooth sailing, thankfully. Hopefully it stays that way.

Attention is at an all time high for you and your sisters and by the way they're soaking it up with _thee_ girliest, _thee_ most nauseating giggles you have ever heard when some dumb boy chokes up some lame joke, it doesn't take a rocket scientist to guess that all the Bellas are enjoying it way too much. Instead of giving the hornballs around you any form of interest in their below average moves, you pull out your cellphone and decide to drop a text to someone who could easily take your mind off of what is happening.

 _[Chloe Beale 1:30 PM] I'm dressed like a complete bimbo, there's way too much testosterone in my bubble and I have so much makeup on my face that I can barely smile without it hurting._

You send the text and exit out of the conversation, cheering just in time with all your sisters when Tom Smith, all star quarterback for Barden, launches a rocket halfway down the field to all american wide receiver, Ben Ryan, to complete a touchdown. Everyone around you is going apeshit _ballistic_ and there's cannons being blown off, the cheerleaders on the track are yelling some cliche, touchdown cheer with the entire student section echoing the words to shake the stadium.

That is everyone except for _you_ , who is squirming away from all the people jumping up and down and avoiding the wandering hands to certain places on your body that shouldn't be touched without permission. And actually, places on your body that _shouldn't_ even be looked at without permission. But college guys are the exact replica of _pigs_ and respect for a girl's body is nonexistent for them.

With knowing the truth as to why all your sisters are scavenging every guy at Barden like you're collecting eggs on Easter, maybe you don't feel so bad that they're _definitely_ being used just so they can get killed later on.

 _Is that wrong?_

Perhaps, but witches don't have morals-you think?- and since you're pretending to be part of this weird cult, Girl Scout group and are, in fact, surrounded by _two witches_ , any disturbing thought processes will be blamed by that.

"Gooo Knights!" Aubrey, who is standing millimeters away from you, screams at the top of her lungs directly into your right ear, her water bug sunglasses almost sliding off the bridge of her nose when she raises a triumphing hand in the sky and is rewarded with an equally as loud cheer from more of the student section.

This is just a bizarre sight to see watching Aubrey get the crowd all riled up and her showing no care to the world as the boys around her eat away the little bit of clothes she has on with hungry eyes.

She was the type of girl if a guy even _blinked_ at her the wrong way, she'd go off on him, not encouraging the behavior like she is doing currently when a frat guy (whose face and name rings no bells whatsoever) throws his arm around her shoulders and even has the audacity to cop a feel with the invitation her incredibly low cut tank top is flaunting while she rests her hand over his stomach, practically a pile a goo under his scumbag charm.

Aubrey's also one who never really gave a hoot or damn about football since her main focus while being in college has been her studies and being nose deep in homework.

You were always the wild one when it came to events held around school; she would just tag along because you would spend hours begging for her to come with. Bellas' events were different, however, due to the fact Aubrey is the other head sister and Alice made it mandatory for the Bellas to be the most supportive, most wild organization on campus.

Apparently, like a lot of what Aubrey's recent decisions on her life choices has been affected by the potion and honestly, it's freaking you out, more so than anyone else since the two of you go way back and you know your best friend like the back of your hand.

Or at least you _did_.

You give your best enthusiastic cheer to join the scene once the kicker for barden scores another point to add to their total score of twenty four in the first half. Things settle down after a while to resume the game when the other team has the ball and it's then when all the commotion calm down that you feel your cellphone vibrating through your short's pocket.

An instant smile spreads when you read the name; only one person in this whole world that has the power to flip your attitude right around.

 **[Beca Mitchell 1:40 PM] You see, I don't think you look that bad**

 **[Beca Mitchell 1:40 PM] That green shirt really brings out the red in your hair**

This catches your attention as it's like a real life stalker knows exactly what you're wearing. How is it that Beca can be anywhere _whenever_ she wants?

 _[Chloe Beale 1:41 PM] Now how do you know what I'm wearing?_

You tear your eyes away from you phone while still keeping open the conversation and scan the bleachers for the mysterious freshman and her whereabouts that will answer your question for you. It's hard to look anywhere because the whole student section, for some random reason, is standing up and you, not being the tallest of girls can barely see over everyone bouncing around.

But when your eyes land on the only secluded part of the bleachers, where no one except a few parents are sitting down, munching on some popcorn are seen, you also catch a familiar shade of black in the very back corner and that same killer, crooked smile that has a heavy effect in your gut, even with the obvious distance separating you two.

You almost wave as a reflex once you see all the black and realize it's Beca, with her repellant towards any form of human interaction since she is decked out in far less clothes as well; a black tank top, the same black skinny jeans and those beat up converse, but you're able to fight back the urge and send only a small smile back in return to that infamous smirk before switching your focus back to your phone.

Actually, now that you think about it, waving would've been the biggest mistake in the books for blowing your cover because who knows what attention that would've brought to someone who is _obviously_ keeping a low profile and is keeping it for a reason.

If anything, you should be focused on the game and the boys all around, seducing them to fall for your tricks and get them to attend the Bellas' rush.

Not Beca and her stupid attractive face.

Goodness, she's so distracting sometimes.

 _[Chloe Beale 1:42 PM] I didn't peg you as much of a football fan ;)_

 **[Beca Mitchell 1:43 PM] You pegged correct**

 **[Beca Mitchell 1:43 PM] Gotta make sure your sisters down burn down Barden and everything that comes with the shitty school**

 **[Beca Mitchell 1:43 PM] Would be better if I had a beer though**

You snicker at the thought; Beca would no doubt get ID checked with her five foot height, even though she's actually your age, but everything about her image screams high schooler. It's Barden, which isn't a dry campus. Chances are, she could ask literally _anybody_ for some alcohol and she'd have a six pack right away, regardless if they attended the tailgate or not, which also had a plethora of alcohol and beer to choose from.

You'd know.

You were stuck there for two hours playing dumb, hanging out with all the dumb jocks and gloating about the Bellas' to anyone who was anyone. One thing about the 2.0 Bellas' now that you've spent some more time with them is that they don't drink anything _alcoholic_ anymore-besides that potion stuff Gail makes.

At the tailgate, drinks left and right where offered from other students, but no matter if it was Aubrey's favorite Smirnoff wine cooler, or Jessica's go to Blue Moon beer, they denied and denied until the offers became less frequent.

Of course, their lack of personal space and extreme friendliness towards others made them out to seem like they are totally _hammered_ , which covers up the questions as to why all of a sudden the Bellas', biggest sorority on campus and in fact, the whole Southern region, has omitted any form of alcohol.

In _**college.**_

It makes you wonder if Gail and Kommissar have something to do with it, like all this extra alcohol your sisters put in their body will interfere with the Succubus rum and reverse the potion. They need to build an army by brainwash and if that army is being shielded by a thick layer of alcohol, then they have nothing.

Whatever it is, though, you're glad you picked up on this sooner than later before you gulped down a beer or else that would put you in an entirely fishy position that would be hard to weasel your way out of without drawing any suspicion for being immune to this black magic nonsense.

 _[Chloe Beale 1:45 PM] If I do recall, freshmen aren't allowed to drink due to the fact they're underage ;)_

 **[Beca Mitchell 1:46 PM] Well since we are practically "buddies," I'll let you in on a secret that there's a hell of a lot more things I do that I shouldn't, thus making drinking a beer as harmless as a nun with a gun**

"Who has you smiling like a cheeseball?" Apparently, Beca's bad girl innuendo brought a pretty large curve to your mouth while reading the message to yourself; a type of smile that brought Aubrey's teasing attention along to see it just in time, curious as to who it's from. "Must be someone special who has stolen your attention away from the _game_ and glued it to the screen on your phone."

You don't say anything but awkwardly smile back at Aubrey, like you're verbally incapable of speaking actual words. It's not like you had a response anyway to Aubrey's observation, not like you could come out and say it's Beca who is making you cheek like a school girl through text messages.

Luckily for you and your awkwardness, the game steals back Aubrey's attention when Tom throws a hell of a shot down to the twenty yard line, earning the Knights a first down. You clap and cheer and shout all the nonsense going on around you, pretending to know everything that is going on when reality you just want to talk to Beca.

Mutiple times- more than you're willing to count- you have to _physically_ fight the temptation to turn your head around to steal a glance at Beca from afar, instead of being focused on the game like you should be but even that you have no interest in.

The score flies over your head even with a scoreboard telling you the exact points each team has, who has the ball is something you can't answer and the last thing you want to be doing is watching a bunch of _meatheads_ running around on the field while the Bellas seduce the whole male population.

What you really want to be doing is conversing with Beca about all the other bad stuff she does in her life and just mute out the rest of the world, especially Joey, who has been uncomfortably rubbing his sweaty body all over and throwing his arms around your frame since the beginning of the game, not understanding the hints you've been giving him all game that you're so far from uninterested in his moves that it's actually embarrassing he's still trying so hard.

 **[Beca Mitchell 1:48 PM] Your friend is wasted, by the way**

 _[Chloe Beale 1:48 PM] Joey? He is definitely NOT my friend. As you couldn't already tell, I'm busy reeling in men for our big witch spell happening Halloween night, duh._

 _[Chloe Beale 1:48 PM] Gotta fish while I can Becs ;)_

 **[Beca Mitchell 1:49 PM] Maybe reel him in without all the added groping?**

 **[Beca Mitchell 1:50 PM] Tell him to keep his hands to himself**

 _[Chloe Beale 1:50 PM] Why? You jealous? ;)_

As if Joey read the messages himself-which he couldn't since you're keeping the phone away from his line of sight- he hooks one of his arms around your lower back and his hand lands on the area just above your hipbone, _definitely_ touching the skin underneath your tight top.

It stays there for a while, much to your dismay and without even looking yet, you could feel Beca's burning glare on the back of your head, which is exactly what she is doing with a strong clench to her teeth when you steal a quick glance in her general direction.

The green monster image Beca is showing is hard to keep in the smug smirk you can feel twitching at the corners of your lips. Wasn't it Beca who said that this whole relationship between you two should be platonic and, in her own words, are nothing but acquaintances?

Because if you do recall, acquaintances don't get jealous and predatorial over anyone who isn't themselves, but by the unpleasant, sour twist over Beca's features that she is doing _nothing_ to even try hiding the jealousy, something is there that makes it seem like the two of you are more.

And being the top candidate in the childish behavior department, you egg this hunch of jealousy you feel radiating off of Beca the first chance you get and boldly and visibly grab at Joey's torso, arms circling around the area as you laugh loudly at his jokes, or you think he is telling a joke, _hopefully_ he was telling a joke because that'd make you look ridiculous if he wasn't and you were there, laughing like a literal idiot.

Like a true air head you'd see on MTV, or those high school movies.

Truthfully, you haven't been listening to a single thing this guy has been saying the entire game, so it shouldn't take you by surprise if you made a complete fool of yourself.

While he was busy chatting off your ear, you were either glued to your phone, texting Beca, or staring off into the distance, thinking of the possible ways to injure yourself so you wouldn't have to stand through another second of this game with your very "friendly" group of sisters.

Joey takes the sudden movement and soaks into your touch, acting all big and macho now, thinking he has you wrapped around his grubby little fingers now that he has you under his arm. Little does he know that the only reason why you are even acknowledging his presence, let alone _talking_ to the boy is because you want to see how long it takes before Beca explodes into the big, green monster you're _dying_ to get acquainted with.

It's a commitment, however, because that same hand at your hip seems to get a little more brave at the amount of closeness you've created between the two of you and inches farther south down your body. You have to clench every muscle not to freak, break his hand and probably kick him in the baby maker for how close he is getting to touching a certain area on your body that is in **private** **territory**.

People can look, but not touch-unless with permission, _of course_.

But Joey doesn't seem to understand his boundaries and you don't know how long to can keep up this facade before it's **you** who blows up.

 **[Beca Mitchell 1:52 PM] I'm not jealous, but your buddy Joey is testing his luck right now**

 **[Beca Mitchell 1:52 PM] And it seems like you're enjoying it too since you look pretty fucking cozy**

 _[Chloe Beale 1:53 PM] What do you want me to do? Not like I can slap him or push him away without drawing some sort of attention to myself, which you clearly told me not to do_

 _[Chloe Beale 1:53 PM] Why do you even care anyways?_

 **[Beca Mitchell 1:54 PM] Trust me, I don't**

Sweet.

Right back to the emotionless, " _I care about no one but myself"_ Beca you've had the honors of getting the worse of these past few weeks.

But something tells you that she isn't being completely honest with herself, or at least that's what you tell yourself.

 **[Beca Mitchell 1:55 PM] He just shouldn't be throwing himself all over you like you're a piece of meat. You don't have to do anything. I swear, one more move and he's going to wish he never came to this game**

 _[Chloe Beale 1:56 PM] I don't know, Bec. That sounds a little like you're jelly to me :P_

Suddenly, the hand at your hip startles you away from your device when it casually moves its way to your backside, giving your butt a firm, non acceptable squeeze without permission. He's high fiving his buddies like he is the smoothest peanut butter on the shelf while you are running thin on patience from this dude who you barely even know on a friendly level, let alone a level that allows him to grope you inappropriately in public.

Joey was your _lab partner_ for Chemistry sophomore year.

Out of the four years you've been at Barden, the most you've talked to guy was to exchange notes from class and the one time he took you out for coffee after he almost burnt your hair off your scalp during an acid titration experiment. There was no way you were going to pass up free coffee, especially if your precious, luscious hair that you've worked so hard on was threatened in the mix.

Other than that, he's just another guy on the baseball team, _average_ player at best, decently looking guy who messes around with girls for pleasure and is potato sack _dumb_.

Just as you're about to slap the living daylights out of him due to the fact that his hand is still palming a certain place on your body that he shouldn't be touching, something strange happens as the grip on your lower half loosens and his entire frame goes numb, slipping forward lifelessly as he passes out cold in front of the students standing in front of you.

You think you're in shock right now, because all you can do is gape, unable to pick up your limp jaw hanging from the bleachers you're standing on as you try to process what the hell just happened. People around who saw it happen freak out, as well, and start to panic when he doesn't move, and then you think he might have knocked himself out with how hard he smacked his head.

It's his buddies who think Joey passing out cold is the funniest thing on the planet, and blame it on the amount of beer he had at the tailgate, which you can agree to since you've been smelling the odor radiating out of his mouth all game.

And that kind of makes sense, you think.

Even though you're more than pissed at the boy for where his hormones lead his hands to touch over your body, you're glad that one of his friends checks his pulse and he's still (thankfully) breathing. As his buddy is checking him, you catch a needle of some sort sticking out at the back of his neck, right below his hair and as you look closer at the object catching your eye, you realize that it's a decently sized dart.

 _Huh, that's...strange?_ You think quietly to yourself as your mind shifts from thinking Joey may have had a little too much to drink to wondering if someone else has been the reason for him passing out. Mid investigation, the boisterous sound of a cannon being blown off causes you to jump out from your skin.

Another touchdown is scored and the crowd goes wild, forgetting all about Joey and his state to cheer and jump around like a bunch of maniacs. You, on the other hand, are slightly worried, wondering if you should call 911, or get a teacher, or call security to pick up a guy who has drank way pass his limit, or could possibly be hunted by like... _spies or something._

And while you're debating on which route is the best to go through with, your phone buzzes again, signaling another text message.

 **[Beca Mitchell 2:00 PM] You should probably snag that thing sticking out of his neck.**

Okay, definitely not spies doing the hunting, but in fact a _college_ _freshman_ , who goes by the name of Beca Mitchell is the only culprit here to blame for Joey's lifeless body laying feet away you.

You gasp out loud reading the message and snap your head to the side so fast you think you might've tweaked something in your neck. Once your eyes have registered, you find a guilty looking brunette holding up a straw to twist between her fingers, waving it up high and proud as she mouths an unbelieveable and insincere "sorry" your way, shoulders going up into a shrug with her hands while that same straw finds its way to Beca's front teeth.

There's a split second when you wonder where Beca might have got something like this, but then it registers to you that Beca has a closet full of weapons to choose from and the words "witch hunter" rings a bell loud and clear in your head at the memory of a certain conversation.

That's right. Basically everything Beca does- better yet her whole existence is pretty much _breaking the law._

How could you possibly think anything less from this girl who has already surprised you more times than you would like in only the short amount of time you've known her?

Appalled and all around shocked at what just happened, you type furiously into your phone to the point where you might crack the glass screen, shooting a text right back to the criminal herself.

 _[Chloe Beale 2:01 PM] What the HELL did you do?!_

Beca's response to this comes incredibly fast, as if she had the message already typed up and ready to send.

 **[Beca Mitchell 2:02 PM] I warned him. He choose not to keep his hands to himself**

 **[Beca Mitchell 2:02 PM] But seriously, get that thing out of his neck**

 _[Chloe Beale 2:03 PM] Omg are you trying to get arrested? Do you know how bad jail is? I'm sorry but I'm living on a college budget and that means there is no possible way of me bailing you out!_

 **[Beca Mitchell 2:03 PM] Actually yes, I do. Not too bad, I must say. Going back wouldn't hurt. Wouldn't recommend it though, which is why I really need to to snag that pointy thing out from his neck, just so I don't have to go back to jail and then you'll never see me again**

Of course Beca has been arrested.

Why would you have thought otherwise knowing the trouble she is prone to? You don't really know how to react either, half of you is concerned that Beca has gone to jail, yet another secret she has kept from you, but the other half, as weird as it may sound, turns you on like a hot stove at the imagination of Beca been cuffed, thrown into the back of a cop car and taken to the slammer you've created inside your head.

And all you have to say is the sight of Beca going through this process might be equally as great as seeing the scene unfold first hand.

 _Phew_ , you really need to tone it down.

Disregarding the multiple questions you have for the freshman that float around the topic of being arrested, you stick straight you the point of the current problem, which is a six foot boy who may or may not be dead feet in front of you.

 _[Chloe Beale 2:03 PM] You're absolutely incorrigible. It's literally something new everyday. Where did you even get something like that?_

 _[Chloe Beale 2:03 PM] Actually, don't answer that. I don't want to know because right now, the least I need is to be thrown another curveball from you_

Despite the amount of panic and rage swimming through your veins, you glance around the student section to see if anyone is paying attention. Oblivious to someone being clearly _unresponsive_ , everyone around you, including all the Bellas, are thrashing around about the game going on, not a care to any outside noise happening around them.

Seeing this as a clear opening, you sneak down to where Joey is face down on the bleachers where other students once were before they ended up moving around him and his lifeless corpse. Cautiously, you pluck out the dart Beca shot and toss it somewhere on the ground that you don't pay too much attention to.

Now that the evidence is out of Joey's neck, you turn around to face Beca again, briefly catching her hiding in a smug laugh and it's then you hit a whole new level of panic as you start to think of what to do next with Joey. It's only a matter of time before an authority sees him laying face first in metal, and not by choice.

 _[Chloe Beale 2:05 PM] Did you just kill him?! Beca, please tell me he isn't dead_!

You chance a glance at Beca and almost explode with rage when you see her _laughing_ out loud about the text you just sent. What the hell is funny about this situation, Beca?

Please, _elaborate_.

 **[Beca Mitchell 2:06 PM] Whoa calm down**

 **[Beca Mitchell 2:06 PM] He isn't dead. Just had to tame a beast like they do out in the wild.**

 _[Chloe Beale 2:07 PM] This isn't a time for your little riddle, bullshit games, Mitchell! What do I do?! I've taken CPR classes but I never thought I'd ACTUALLY have to perform it!_

 **[Beca Mitchell 2:08 PM] It's nothing bad. Just a little dose of tranquilizer to knock him out for a bit. No big deal.**

 _Oh, it's no big deal, Beca? You call shooting someone with a dart, technically considered bringing a weapon on school property not a big deal?_

You scoff and run a tense, shaking hand through your hair; all of this going way too fast for you to handle.

And now you aren't the only one who would be better off with a beer.

Correction, make that _plural._

On cue, Joey rises back from the dead, confused, dazed and all around _out of it_ as he slowly lifts his body off the bleachers and out from that uncomfortable position he landed himself into when he fell. His buddies from his team senses his awakening and one of them-someone who still blames him passing out on the alcohol- leads him out from the crowd, probably to take him home, or somewhere far less crammed to get some fresh air since by his appearance, he looked like he just downed a whole bottle of moonshine for himself.

Which is why the excuse that he passed out because he drank too much fits perfectly in this scenario.

You're happy that the students here are too plastered to even understand what just happened and you're also relieved to see that Beca was right on the amount of time Joey would be out. However, you're not happy at how the freshman handled the situation that could've gone completely wrong in the worst way possible.

But you can't stand here, lie and say it wasn't _a little bit_ funny seeing it happen first hand. That jerk got what he deserved and even gave him a nasty bruise on his forehead from where it connected with the metal on the bleachers. Watching all of it unreel was amusing, to say the least.

 **[Beca Mitchell 2:12 PM] See? Your buddy is alright, he just took a little cat nap. Maybe it knocked the sense into him.**

 _[Chloe Beale 2:13 PM] If not, it forsure knocked the last little bit of his IQ out the door with a concussion lol Thanks for standing up for me, even though a verbal confrontation would've been more ideal ;)_

 **[Beca Mitchell 2:13 PM] And where's the fun in that, huh?**

"Pay attention, Chlo! It's almost time to rush the field!" Aubrey, again, tears your focus away from your phone, oblivious of the whole Joey situation that just occurred and fully entranced by the football game. Like she said, the game is nearly over, Barden is dominating with a 40-15 score against their opponents and like every other win, the student section charges the field to celebrate the victory with the team.

It use to be your favorite thing to do, minus all the bumps and bruises you got from the mosh pit you found yourself trapped in once you made it to the turf. This time though feels different; you aren't buzzing with excitement about the win and when you catch Beca packing up her stuff and leaving the stadium, all you want to do is go home, now that there isn't anything at the game keeping you entertained.

Goodbye to the little eye candy that you had left, _smh._

The same canon that has been blown off multiple times this game so far and has almost sent you into cardiac arrest each time, as well, goes off once more, signaling the end of the game as the announcers yell through the stadium's speakers. Figuring that you should participate with the Bellas' in the field rush, you hurry up and type out a quick text to send Beca before the actual rushing begins.

 _[Chloe Beale 2:14 PM] You could've gotten caught and if that was the case, how would we be able to get that coffee you promised me?_

Again, Beca's response is instantaneous and you try to not let it affect you as much as it does.

 **[Beca Mitchell 2:14 PM] As said before, where's the fun without the risk?**

 **[Beca Mitchell 2:15 PM] And too bad I don't like coffee, so that option is off the table**

Now that is just a dirty _lie_.

Beca screams to have a fetish for black coffee with her bowl of rusty nails she eats early in the morning everyday.

Because you are standing at a higher level of the large student section and can already see the lower section dispersing, making a beeline for the field and know your time is almost up before you have to charge down there. Typing out one last message, hoping to get a decently fast reply in return,

 _[Chloe Beale 2:16 PM] You're trouble, Mitchell_

And you do, right before you're tugged away like a rag doll onto the field.

 **[Beca Mitchell 2:17 PM] So they tell me.**

* * *

 **Next chapter is already written, just need to go through some editing and it should be up soon. It's a good one, so don't miss it. Don't forget to review and follow me on Tumblr, omACAgee! I'm always open to chatting, especially about bechloe :D**


	7. Chapter 7

**Told yah it would be a speedy update ;)**

* * *

 **Chapter Seven: Training Day**

It's around two in the morning when you are startled awake by your third nightmare of the night, heart racing a mile a minute and skin clammy from the layer of sweat gathered throughout the dream.

You take a look at your surroundings in the room, relaxing a little bit after you examine all your personal supplies, posters and pictures scattered along your desk, proving that what you just endured was a _horrible_ , non imaginable nightmare.

It's been the same dream that has been occurring tonight, all having to deal with witches and all that other creepy, voodoo stuff, and a whole lot of blood involving you, your sisters, your family, and even Beca. First night back at the Bellas after knowing all the secrets that are held within, it was only a matter of time before your inner fears started eating you alive.

You just wish that recovering from these dreams was easier said than done.

A shaky hand runs through your hair; it's sweaty and ratted from the tossing and turning. You feel your stomach untwist itself from the massive knot formed and the violent thumping from your heartbeat gradually starts to ease, slowing down to a pace where you can begin thinking straight again. You no longer feel as if you're suffocating under a plastic bag, but the tears roll down your cheeks before you can even process that you're crying at all.

One tear falls, and another one quickly follows.

Then three.

Then four.

And then a _whole_ bucketful of tears comes crashing into your shirt.

Everything hits you at once; the worst being that your sisters' lives are in danger and you're locked inside a box, physically incapable of doing anything to help, all while the ones you love are being threatened by people they thought they could trust.

Your well being isn't even a main concern at the moment, though you can barely close your eyes for half a second without the fear that someone- _something_ is watching your every move, waiting to pounce when you least expect it.

You cry until you think you've ran out of tears and are seconds away from shriveling up, all done silently in effort not to wake the other Bellas. Mostly because you don't have the words to explain why it is that you're crying in the first place, but also because you're _terrified_ at how your sisters, let alone house mothers would handle it.

Before, they were the ones you ran to when you had a problem; it was okay to vent your anger or cry your sadness, but now, you can barely even be at an arm's reach without fearing what they can do to you.

And what kind of sisterhood is that? One where you live in a house full of girls who are suppose to be your home away from home, but you're too scared for your safety to even been caught in room with them. You shouldn't fear the ones you love; at first you thought it was impossible to _ever_ fear your sisters, blood or not. Turns out, it was.

It _is_.

And it was the _worst_ **fucking** feeling.

A good five minutes later, you're done crying out all the fears, the worries, the concerns, the questions you might have. It's deathly quiet in your room, other than the crickets outside of your window and the darkness surrounding not only your whole room, but the entire house adds to level of loneliness you are feeling as of right now. It's almost like you're trapped in another nightmare, but this one is real life, and there's no way of escaping it except accepting the fact and dealing with it all.

That is until Beca comes to mind, and how she told you that if anything was wrong, it was okay to talk to her-to reach out and explain what was wrong.

And maybe she was joking, expecting you never to call because who calls someone in the middle of the night because of a bad dream?

Or she was just being her usual sarcastic self that you've come to love so much.

And you start to believe your own doubts when it's the fourth ring since dialing Beca's number in your phone and she has yet to pick up. It's also extremely late at night when people should be sleeping and anyone who picks up a call at this hour has some major explaining to do.

" **Chloe?"**

But then she surprises you, as always, how dare you expect anything less from the mysterious rebel and it's brings back the tickle in your nose, making you want to cry all over again, which is just pathetic and embarrassing.

"Hi," you attempt to hide the croak in your voice from the amount of crying you've done- _still_ want to do pretty well. Even you had yourself fooled. "Sorry about...calling you so late."

" **Are you okay?"** Beca's concern is evident through her voice and it tugs a smile from your lips; a smile not as bright and upbeat as your usual Chloe grin, but a smile that feels refreshing after a night like this one. " **Chloe?"** she speaks again after you realize that you never responded to her original question, louder this time, and more clear. " **Are you okay? Do you need anything?"**

 _Yes_ , you think to yourself. _I need to get out of this house immediately before I lose my damn mind,_ you think some more, adding to what you really want to say, but decide those aren't the right choice of words.

"No." Even coming from you this doesn't sound believable and you curse yourself for it. Trying again, this time with more volume to to you voice, hoping it would blanket over what really is bugging you, "I just...needed someone to talk to."

And you really hate that you are unable to keep in the crack your voice produced, which causes you to fail at trying to keep in all the tears as well. The only plus side to this is that the tears fall quietly into your lap where the bedsheet covers, the only sign that you're crying at all is your shaken voice and stuffy sniffs every once in awhile.

There's only silence hitting both ends of the call; Beca's soft breathing is the only indicator that informs you she hasn't hung up. You think that Beca can see right through the device and the front you're trying to put up, knowing there's a reason behind this call, but she doesn't bring it up, and you thank her for it. It's one thing knowing that you're crying because of a stupid reason, but it's a whole different story admitting it out loud to someone who you want to impress.

But no matter how hard to try, how forcefully you try to blink back the tears, somehow you can't seem to keep them from falling down.

" **Wanna hear a story?"** Beca's voice is the softest you have ever heard it in the weeks you've known the girl, almost to the point where it's so fragile it could break at any moment.

You nod your head even though Beca can't see your response; a story sounds like a perfect idea to get your mind off of the problems you're facing and would definitely cover up the crying you're doing. At this point, you don't even know why you're trying to hide your emotions because you're pretty positive that Beca can see everything.

Hell, she might as well be sitting right next to you, watching the scene in person.

" **When I was little, I begged my parents to let me paint my whole room black."**

You don't mean to squeak out a small giggle at the confession, but a room painted black has Beca's name written all over it and Beca thinks it's pretty funny too when you hear her laugh on the other line. It's also nice to shift emotions and laugh for once.

Like they say, a simple smile is a perfect remedy for most things.

Focusing back to the story, Beca continues. " **I got really bad night terrors when I was little and was scared shitless of the dark. My theory was that if I had the darkness covering my whole room and the terror it brought with it, all the monsters would be too scared to come in and steal me."**

Beca pauses for a moment and you were interested in the story from the start, but now you're intrigued to find out where this is heading. The mention of her mother being highlighted out of rest of what Beca said really is what reels you in, knowing family is a touchy subject for the girl. Also, you find the coincidence in the story when the main reason why you called Beca was because of a nightmare.

" **Eventually, my mom and dad painted my entire room, covered the windows with a black sheets and taped off every bit of light shown when the lights came off, completely blackening the room to my satisfaction. After that, Im not going to say the night terrors totally stopped, because that'd be a lie, but what did happen was that I started having them less and less, to the point where I stopped having them completely."**

"Weren't you scared?" It's at a whisper volume when you ask this and you _absolutely_ hate how weak you sound right now, but no matter how you feel, you can't help it. At least you've stopped crying. The only reminder that you even cried at all is the stuffy nose and swollen eyes. "Scared of the dark, that is."

" **Oh I was fucking terrified,"** Beca admits honestly and breathes a soft chuckle. You find it hard to believe that _Beca_ , the one girl who wouldn't fear a bear if it was standing an arm's reach away in front of her has a phobia of the dark. " **But you lock yourself inside your room with your biggest fear and soon, you don't think anything in the entire world can scare you anymore, nor is this thing that has been scaring you all that scary in the first place. What's something you're scared of?"**

Bears.

Heights.

Spiders.

Drowning.

Clowns.

Choking on food.

 **Witches**.

Really, the lists goes _on_ and _on_.

"Not being able to hold my own weight...not being strong enough," you decide to go with, seeming like this is relateable to your current hurricane of emotions hitting you at every corner.

" **Well, I might not have known you for very long, but easily I can admit that you're by far the strongest girl, let alone person I have ever met. Hell, look at what you're going through right now. Anyone else would've bailed on me. Not you though."**

Maybe it's a placebo effect you feel while talking to Beca that causes you to feel like you can smash a boulder with your bare pinkies, but whatever it is, you're grateful for it.

You don't consider yourself a weak girl after the obstacles life has already placed for you in the past. Of course, you haven't dealt with anything like what you're dealing with _currently_ before in your life ( **no one** has you'd like to think) but at any other time, you don't think you'd be able to do it. To stick through and grow tough skin.

But ever since meeting Beca and getting to know the girl, finding out (some) of her secrets and getting to experience the level of confidence she has oozing through her pores every move makes you feel on top of the world.

Perhaps not tonight as you were lacking a lot of strength you needed to hold yourself stable and face your nightmares head on. If someone were to ask now, however, you'd have more strength than Hercules and it's knowing this that washes away all your fears.

The thing about scary things; it's only scary if you allow them to scare you and as long as you're not scared, they won't hurt you.

And you guess that's what you're just going to have to believe by if you are going to make it out of this goddamn house _alive_.

"Thank you, Beca, for everything." You smile appreciatively and lay your head back down on your pillow, exhaustion hitting you full blast as you fail to fight back a yawn. Something about the low timbre of Beca's voice is melodic and soothing the longer you listen. "I know it's late and you didn't have to answer, but I'm really glad you did."

" **You can call me, Chloe."** It almost sounds like Beca is offended that you'd think otherwise and truthfully, you _did_ think this. You thought that Beca had her own issues to face. Technically, she's in the same position as you're in, besides living in the house and you thought with knowing this that you'd just be a burden. " **I know I'm not the best at showing it, but I want to be there for you, and I promise I'll work on it."**

Beca's sincere words squeeze out some more tears and you're back to crying again, but rather than the tears that made you feel threatened, weak and vulnerable, these tears make you feel caged, safe, and protected.

No words are exchanged for a few moments; you take in the silence to soak in the feeling and realization that even though she puts on that disguise that she's a cold hearted, immune to any sort of emotions human being, Beca has a soft stop and cares deeply about certain thing.

And turns out, you're one of those certain things, and knowing this, it's enough to fight off all the demons, monsters, witches and scary things you dream about and finally, you feel _content_.

After a while, you finally speak up, whispering a soft, "I know," into the device caught between your ear and pillow as you look outside your window from where you're laying down, ready to fall asleep at any moment. There's not a cloud in sight to circle around the crescent shape of the moon angled perfectly outside your window and the faint sounds of crickets chirping from the ground level echoes throughout your entire room.

Lately, it's been hard to appreciate the beauty of things when you're busy being surrounded by evil, but Barden has always been a place you consider beautiful. The campus, the houses, the personalities of students that attended, everything is so peaceful here.

Sometimes you just need a little reminder.

Exhaling a contented sigh, eyes practically floating shut, "Goodnight Beca."

" **Goodnight Chloe."**

* * *

As instructed from the day before, you drive all around the greens of Barden University (or at least try to route your way to the designated spot Beca told you to meet, but are having more than a hard time finding the place since it's nowhere to be found on your iPhone GPS and really, you just feel like you're driving in circles, lost in some creepy forest where the last time you were caught in, a witch attacked you.

So that's very unsettling.

Eventually once you're able to see pass the sudden, thick fog radiating from the forest's floor, you spot Beca's car parked in the most eerie, creepiest area in Barden's deserted woods and decide _then_ your life is on the line.

If you didn't know Beca fairly well and happen to have a mega crush on the girl, you'd for sure assume this is where she'd hide a dead body where there is no trace to even find your whereabouts after she goes _Dexter_ on your prissy behind and chops you up into tiny little pieces. Seriously, what in the world is she thinking giving you directions to a place you never even knew existed?

Probably because you have _common sense_ and avoided it at all cost since death and terrible shit is written all over the place and you really enjoy your life and don't plan on dying anytime soon.

Maybe that's why you've never stepped foot in this place and hoped you never had to. Everything about it screams the opposite of where they'd find Chloe Beale. Jesus, you're pulling up to the scene in a _goddamn_ slug bug for Christ sakes, listening to today's pop music as it blares from you car's speakers. Only thing that is missing is the top of your convertible to be pushed down, hair soaring in the wind and _basically_ you're a real life Cher Horowitz, who by the way, is your spirit animal.

Slowly and cautiously, you drive your ruby red slug bug up to the scene where you notice Beca resting on the top of her hood like always, loading what looks like a fairly large gun from your angle until she hears your tires coming up from behind. Placing whatever it was that she was messing around with, she slides off the hood onto her feet, faintly nodding her head up as a greeting to which you reply back with a frantic wave, eager to spend some alone time with the freshman.

Admittedly, it's only been a day apart from last seeing Beca, but with the nightmares and the phone call you shared last night, it felt like it's been _months_ since you've last seen the girl and because of this, it makes you all the more excited to get to hang out with her, even though you aren't fully sure as to what activities she has planned.

But knowing Beca, not as well as you would like but well enough, you know that whatever it is she has planned won't be any less than unexpected and _thrilling_ , which are two exciting qualities.

You park your car directly next to Beca's, turn off the ignition and step outside into the rainforest type fog that instantly hits the skin not being covered by your sundress. Once you're fully out of the vehicle, something about your appearance, you think, causes a pretty _dramatic_ eye roll from Beca and you have no idea why she looks like you just slapped her across the face.

It's not like you were late or anything; she said 5:00 PM, it's exactly 4:55 PM, so technically you're _early_ to whatever "function" it is that Beca has planned for you.

The eye roll then, very unnecessary.

"What?" you ask curiously, glancing down at your body to pick up whatever it is that Beca is focused on, only slightly intimidated by the heavy glare.

"I said dress _appropriately_ ," is all Beca responds sternly with, her tense jaw structure and knitted brows speaking the words for themselves and this time she crosses her arms above her chest, annoyance hitting an all time high as it is shown over her features.

In your defense, appropriately could've meant a lot with what you've been presented with lately now that the Bellas' have an entirely new dress code. Your outfit, on the other hand, is reserved, _perfect_ for the weather (though not the amount of fog and mugginess in the forest) and is all around cute _goddammit_!

"What do you mean?" You play dumb and lift the edge of your dress up, performing a cute little twirl in which you expected at least a _twitch_ in Beca's lips, signaling a smile, or literally _something_ besides her usual blank, pissed off expression she usually has on, especially now. The longer you're under it the more uncomfortable you get. "This is definitely appropriate and must I say, _cute_."

Beca eyes your frame head to toe one last time before she performs the largest eye roll you have ever seen and you can't help but feel a little shitty that whatever you've done so far this evening has produced it. "Whatever," she grumbles under her breath, her features easing as she walks back to the hood of her car, but imaginary steam still blowing out from her ears once you take a good look.

Beca's on her way back to your car and as you reach to pick up your purse from the driver's seat inside where the window is rolled down, Beca gives you one firm, strong glare not to move a muscle and you take the hint pretty well not to even _breathe_ at this point.

You also understand why you might have picked the wrong evening to wear a cute little dress that you hoped to earn a few compliments from a certain someone (since impressing Beca has worked its way up to your top priority each and every day) when your eyes lock down onto what Beca currently has in her hands.

"Um?" You point a finger in the direction of Beca's hand and the item she is holding, which you're praying that it's some type of illusion. "Is that...your _gun_?"

Beca doesn't give you a verbal response; she doesn't even blink in recognition that you even asked a question directly towards her. Instead, she hands you the item caught in her hands-which is _definitely_ a gun now that the weapon is in the palm of your hands. She then orders you to follow her a distance away from the cars in the forest without any explanation.

Beca is walking fast, you figure out when you have more than enough amount of struggle when trying to keep up with her pace as you try to avoid snapping your ankle in half with the height from your wedges you picked out for this evening. Is she trying to prove a point that you made the wrong decision to wear heels?

Probably, especially since she picked the _least_ smooth trail to walk on and the amount of holes and branches you have to dodge is so _unreal_ and so _unfair_.

You're also holding the base of the weapon in between your two fingers like it's dirty laundry, or a bomb about to go off at any second as you follow in tow behind Beca.

Because you might not know a lot about guns like she does, but you can tell when the safety is on and when it isn't, which as of right now, it so totally _isn't_ , so that terrifies you on a whole other level.

This girl trusts you and your clumsy self with her life way too much and that's you being honest. Only a crazy person would hand you a fully loaded, ready to fire gun and Beca right now is straight **maniacal**.

Beca's insanely fast walking comes to a halt and once you catch up and look over her shoulder, you see about a good sixty feet away three large stones with fruit of some type sitting on top with painted targets on the front. The fruit ranges from a decently large watermelon to an apple, which is barely even visible from where you're at, so putting two and two together, if Beca expects you to shoot at anything, especially something so microscopic, she has another thing coming.

"Even though you're dressed like you're about to go on a goddamn _picnic_ , we are still training today," Beca announces, a tinge of anger lacing her words and she twists her body to face you, her intense, and very attractive drill Sergeant attitude making it impossible to focus, let alone get it through your head that you'll be doing whatever crazy training she has planned for tonight. "Throughout the weeks, we will gradually amplify the training as you show improvements. All of it ranges from shooting, which we will start today, all the way to fighting."

Hearing this, you want to burst out laughing, thinking that Beca is delusional about training you into the same type of witch hunter that she is. Violence is not your strong suit, to say the least. At most, you've played Halo with your brothers a few times, but even then you jumped out of your skin anytime someone shot at you, or you shot at them. Driving the spaceships and army vehicles was the only thing you did _well_ , mediocre at best, and even then, you drove off cliffs more times than you can count.

You enjoy shopping at the mall to pick out adorable new outfits and shoes, going to parties and dancing on the table tops until the music stops playing. You like animals (the cute ones, not scary) and you like hanging out with your friends, enjoying sometime together and even whipping out the booze. Singing and music is your strong suit-if anyone were to ask you what song is what, or engage in some type of singing competition, you'd be all for it. It's to the point where you _dare_ someone to challenge you in the music category.

Shooting, fighting, and _killing_ things is foreign in your world, and putting you in the middle of it is like putting a suburban girl in the middle of a country farmhouse, deserted in the middle of nowhere.

You also decide and fully regret wearing a dress now that you know you'll be shooting and need all the stable ground you can get and wearing wedges was the _worst_ mistake made so far of the night. If you don't leave here with a broken or sprained ankle, it will be a damn miracle, but the night is still young and there's a fairly large chance you might be taking a trip to the hospital.

"Are you _serious_?" You snap incredulously, eyes bulging from your skull at the image of you trying to shoot air, let alone something set up in the distance.

Beca doesn't answer your question. _Of course_ she doesn't answer, why would she? By the looks of it, she looks all around fed up with your nonsense.

"I've got two guns; the one you're holding, which is a caliber pistol. Hands down the easiest beginner gun there is and this one." Beca reaches behind her back under her leather jacket and whips out the same desert eagle gun to show off from her belt loop. "This one has a little more pop, but definitely something I think you can handle." Oh you remember the gun; it's the same one that blew off several witches' heads the night of the mixer.

Silly Beca, how could you possibly forget **that** gun?

You nod your head in understanding, taking a good look at the far smaller gun compared to the one in Beca's hand. You're kind of excited, to be honest. Shooting might be more than a little bit intimidating and the only thing you've shot in your life is a water and nerf gun, but the idea that you could get really good, like _James Bond_ good at shooting is exhilarating.

Messing around and desperately trying to lighten the mood in this creepy, deserted forest, you take a stance in which you thought was a perfect one, but by Beca's body language you can infer that the stance is hideous. "Oh! What about this?" You arrange yourself into another stance; one that you saw in a movie once, your legs awkwardly bent and you're holding up the gun sideways with a gnarl in your upper lip, as if you're an amateur trying to rob a bank.

Beca looks like she is about to explode with irritation when seeing you making a joke out of the training she has planned and seeing this, you quickly straighten back up, not wanting to experience the wrath this tiny human being might have locked inside, especially if she is holding a gun and is an _expert_ shooter with it.

Really, all the messing around is just plain _idiotic_ and chancing your life with Beca's patience before she takes a shot at you when it wears thin.

She sets you up at a spot she marked off in a straight line towards the set up targets and the closer you get to the moment you actually get to shoot the targets makes you more and more nervous. Beca also shows you the _proper_ way to hold a gun and a good, athletic stance to have while shooting. You highly enjoy the amount of closeness that is required with her explanation, and how you get a whiff of Beca's minty gum as she instructs you the proper techniques from behind your back, her hands touching all the right places to coach you into a comfortable stance.

The amount of times you have to lock your knees not to buckle whenever Beca's incredibly low voice hits just the right spot behind your ear is uncomfortably painful, but the way Beca already makes you feel and having her so up close and personal is having a heavy effect on your sanity, as well.

Her touch is soft and it makes you weak, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you try to avoid swooning into a puddle. Her voice is commanding and raspy with her instructions, and each word vibrates throughout your entire body, head to toe. Like any other day when spent with Beca, she's the most intoxicating thing in the book, and you just can't seem to get enough.

Can you guys just forget about the training and make out instead? She could coach you in the topic of _kissing_ and by just a glance, you can tell the girl is an expert at it.

Now that seems like a far more enjoyable way to spend a Sunday night.

 _God_ , it's pathetic how badly you want to kiss this girl, and that's even before going out on a date, which is usually your chance to figure out if you want it to become a thing, or completely platonic. With Beca, you think you'd give up your right arm for a date-left arm, too, if it means you get to kiss her afterwards where you'd spend the action mesmerizing every inch and slowly savoring the taste of the girl's mouth.

 _Whoa, Beale, calm it down._

 _Getting a little off track there._

 _Now, let's get back to reality._

"Like this?" You ask for any quick adjustments in your stance pointed towards the targets. You have your legs shoulder width apart and both hands firmly gripping the handle of the gun with your elbows locked straight out in front of your eyesight.

Beca scans the stance before showing an impressive nod and stepping back from your personal space (much to your dismay), the warmth already being replaced by the moistness of the fog and unpleasant chill. "Looks good." You keep in the smug praising at Beca's confirmation without a single correction. Now that's impressive. Being a fast learner has always been one of your top qualities. "Now listen, even though this gun is for beginners, the recoil is still pretty intense. You need to be strong in the arms, which I don't think you'll have any issue with."

"Still jealous of my killer biceps?" You joke with a half smile and throw a wink at Beca. You want to flex and show off your own set of guns, but the thought of breaking your perfect stance comes to mind and you don't really want to go through with that process all over again. The dress you're wearing cuts off like a tank top, so enough of your muscles are visible for Beca to see, who for the first time tonight flinches a smile upward, just briefly before her strict expression morphs back into place.

"Oh definitely," she mocks sarcastically with a roll to her eyes.

She gives you the green light after explaining to hit the watermelon first and explaining her technique on how she lines up to a target. She even demonstrates the action easily with the other gun being held, hitting dead middle of a branch on a tree a lot farther away, snapping it off into the ground and acting like she could do it in her sleep if needed to. You think you black out at the action because you're not really sure when Beca shooting a gun _won't_ be a complete turn on for you since she's remarkable at the task.

Or better yet, Beca and her entire existence.

Closing one eye after listening intently to Beca's shooting tips, you take a deep breath in as you position the gun towards the target painted on the watermelon and curl your index fingers to pop the trigger.

As expected, the recoil from the gun is pretty violent and jerks your entire upper half back as you almost break your hand at the amount of force you're gripping the handle not to send the gun back flying at your face. Your ears are ringing from the noise and you even think that with the force from the bullet, you might have tweaked your neck the wrong way and wouldn't be too shocked if you got minor whiplash from the shot. Now it makes sense why you guys are doing this as far away as possible from Barden and any form of civilization because the gunshot noise did some serious damage to your eardrums.

For a beginner and one who has never shot a gun before does a _way_ better job than you could have ever imagined, hitting the upper right corner of the watermelon before the fruit explodes with pinkish red mush. Your initial reflex when seeing that you've _at least_ hit somewhere on the fruit is to emit the girliest squeal you yourself has ever heard come from your mouth and jump up and down on the

"I hit it!" You exclaim excited, ecstatic that you didn't make a total fool out of yourself and miss the fruit completely. The bullet didn't exactly hit the anywhere on the target board and actually, it just skimmed the upper head of the fruit, but that's all it took for you to act like you just won the lottery with the prize right in front of your eyes.

"Barely," Beca, negative Nancy at her finest, bursts your bubble with her unimpressed glare as she swipes the gun and reloads it with another bullet.

"Can you at least _fake_ like you're impressed?" You roll your eyes, placing one of your hands on your hip while the other holds the newly loaded gun and you wave it in the general direction of where Beca is standing.

Eyes stretching wide at the gun now being pointed towards her, Beca holds her hands up, crouching a bit to avoid being the new target for you to shoot at. "Jesus Christ, Chloe! Don't fucking point that at me!"

You guess that's a valid excuse to the dramatics and petrified screech to Beca's tone as you slowly retract the gun and point safely back it into the ground away from her. Dumb idea, you can admit. "Sorry, but can you at least be encouraging? I hit the fruit didn't I?" Which is still impressive. At first, the most you were hoping for was a tiny nick, barely skimming the top of the fruit to even make an indention that you hit the target at all.

"If anything, that shot wouldve given a witch a _booboo_ and you'd still be killed. So no, I'm not _impressed_." Beca crosses her arms, how unimpressed she really is showing through her body language. She eyes the targets again and signals you to take another shot. Getting pass the amount of hurt you feel with her lack of encouragement, you ready your stance again, hoping to impress Beca this time.

This time round when shooting the gun, you focus hard on the target, as if the scenery in the background and film of fog isn't affecting your shot and pull the trigger, blasting the bullet straight through the bullseye, exploding the fruit like a water balloon. At first, it doesn't register to you that not only didn't you hit the fruit (again), but also that you got a perfect shot. Once realization occurs, you keep in the girly squeal for now and resort to a cockier smirk you toss at Beca, landing a hand on you hip and a bend to your leg.

"This training is a little too _easy_ for me, Bec," you coo playfully, not even hiding the cockiness laced in your tone and posture. "I forgot to tell you, I'm a pro."

"You hit a watermelon, a baseball length apart." Once again, Beca doesn't seem nearly as impressed as you are with her bored, deadpan facial expression, but this time it doesn't affect your amount of confidence. She doesn't even try to hide the amount of blasé she is being. "I'll be impressed when you hit a witch dead center in the forehead as she is charging at you full speed."

The image you get inside your head at actually shooting a real life witch takes you a little off guard. Shooting anything _alive_ is hard to take in. You were the girl who cried hysterically when a bunny jumped in front of your car from a bush as you were driving and you accidentally ran it over. Aubrey had to pull you away from the scene with buckets full of tears, or you wouldn't have left at all.

That's just the girl you are.

Not the girl who kills witches for a living like it's a daily chore.

Erasing the mental image away from your head; you'll think about shooting witches when the time comes. "Can you at least be a little more encouraging? Please, I'm _begging_ you right now," you plead without the actual on the knees begging when hearing Beca's lack of praising. Did she forget that you've never shot anything in your life before? A "good job," or some shown support would be more than enough.

"First of all, you missed your first shot. Missing a shot on a witch will result with your head being blown off, not theirs. I'm not going to be your cheerleader when both our lives are on the line." Beca is bluntly honest and is it weird that you find it extremely sexy? Hard to impress, you see, but nonetheless still incredibly hot.

"You know, I still think you're very, _very_ attractive, but the permanent grumpiness and sarcasm is bumming me out- and I'm usually always upbeat and positive!" You admit, handing over the gun Beca is reaching for.

"Trust me, I know," Beca murmurs, taking the gun out from your hands and switching it with her desert eagle. You eye the new gun suspiciously; it already feels heavier and by the looks, it is considerably bigger than the last gun. Maybe your cockiness is about to bite you in the ass with this one because this time around does not feel like it will end well.

"Since you're _Ms. Expert_ at shooting, take this one and hit the apple," Beca orders blankly, prepared to be ' _wowed_ ' since that's all you've been preaching about tonight.

The task brings a large gulp to your throat in effort to swallow down the knot that has formed from the nerves. You brush it off, however, the armor of confidence still shielding you fully. If you hit the target once, you can hit it again, no matter if it's a different gun.

"Prepare to eat your words, Mitchell," you reform a smirk back to your face after you get your stance perfected like last time. It earns a smaller raise to the corners of Beca's lips and is barely considered even a smile with how faint it is, but it does pop a question as to why _this_ , out of all other things said tonight brought some emotion to Beca's face.

Not looking too much into it and keeping your cocky posture to battle with Beca, you get ready to take aim at the fruit; the apple looks like an ant off the Empire State Building, but you try to focus as best as you can. When you think you're ready to shoot, you cock the gun and fire the trigger like before, but instead of watching the fruit explode like the watermelon did-which it never happens- the back of the gun flies back into the top of your upper lip, swelling the area immediately and bringing a sting to your nose as you feel the tears starting to pool in your eyes.

"Oh my- **shit**!" You wail from the pain and taste of blood, dropping the gun straight into the ground and hastily replace your hands to cup over the injured area.

It all happened so fast that you're not even really sure what hit you in the first place. But the force from the gun, and violent jerk it caused to your whole body sparks up in memory and was definitely something Beca did not prepare you for.

While in pain, you hear Beca laughing under her breath and it lights a fire somewhere inside you as to what part of you receiving a giant, fat lip has any humor in it. Eventually her laughs die down, but her shitting eat grin doesn't ever leave her face.

"Don't you dare cry on me, Red," Beca warns with a squint and you are almost positive that you wouldn't be able to control the things that come out of your eyes due to the fact they have a mind of their own. Plus, crying seems inevitable by this point as the throbbing around your whole face becomes more violent and unbearable.

You give her a watery smile in attempt to cover up the tears threatening to come out. Any other day, crying would be an automatic reflex because one, it's good for you and two, when people _usually_ get hurt to some extent, they're allowed to cry. Ask any child who fell down during their first steps training, or anyone who has been smacked in the face and _at least_ got watery eyes.

But crying in front of Beca makes you feel pathetic and weak and the thought is more than a little embarrassing. So, you take a shaky inhale through the nose, absorbing all the tears with it and pray your low pain tolerance doesn't make a scene in front of the freshman.

With a permanent, glowing grin, Beca tells you to stand still (though you really don't know where you'd leave to since the both of you are in the middle of literally _nowhere_ ) and she jogs back to her car, retrieving a first aid kit from the trunk and jogs back in an impressive amount of time.

"Always come prepared when teaching a rookie how to shoot." Beca must've seen your puzzled stare towards the kit and answers the questions for you.

She wets a rag with a water bottle she also picked up and cleans the wound on your lip where you expected a crime scene of blood to be present, but turns out it's just a small cut. You would've expected more than a little baby bruise since the gun almost knocked you straight back on your ass and basically gave you a concussion, but whatever. At least you have a second head forming on your lip with the amount of swelling being felt and not a black eye, or something equally as bad. It could've been way worse.

"Getting smacked in the face shut you up?" Beca teases while wiping all the dried and new blood from your lip, smile lightening and isn't so much of a ' _ha ha, told you so'_ type of grin, but back to her original smile that only greets you once in a blue moon. Nonetheless though does it not hold heavy in your stomach in all the right ways with how close Beca is to you.

"You said there would be _a little_ more pop to the gun, not hit by a freight train type of pop, Beca" you mumble through a pout, unable to tear your eyes away from Beca's. They're more grey today, darker in a way, but not any less beautiful. Hypnotizing would be a good word to sum them up.

"You were pretty cocky about your _mediocre_ shooting, I had to put a stop to it somehow," Beca answers and wipes some vaseline over the cut to finish the healing process. You flinch at the brief sting, but already does the cut feel ten times better. Regular Beca is already the hottest of the hot, but Nurse Beca is hands down the sexiest thing you've ever been encountered with and maybe getting hurt wasn't _so bad._

"Guess I learn from the best," you retort, smirk matching hers-though yours feels like a thousand times larger than you would like.

"Because I _am_ the best," Beca says smug, eyes never leaving yours, even though she is done caring for your amateur wound. You smile appreciatively at the sympathetic gesture, finding it hard to believe that comforting someone is something Beca is able to do. It's knowing this that makes Beca a little more irresistible. "Now, let's get back to training- _the proper way,_ and hopefully you'll leave here with only a fat lip and not a black eye."

"Can't make any promises," you mumble under your breath, feeling like the top definition of a noob with a swelling fat lip to back this up.

* * *

Training goes smoothly and you leave the forest with no other injuries other than a massive fat lip and the nausea feeling of a stomach full of butterflies, both caused by no other than Beca Mitchell. After a good hour until it got dark, you think you've ranked above mediocre at your shooting skills. Beca even complimented how fast you're able to pick up the technique and in hers words, "have a natural eye with your aim."

She schedules more training days after classes throughout the week and you promise her that next time you'll be wearing more appropriate, training like clothes and she laughs about it, taking your word for it as she makes a grand exit and drives away.

Your heart is sore, you decide once the rapid beating has calmed down enough for you to be able to feel the ache. Extreme amount of adrenaline from training could be a big factor as to why your heart feels like a tight hamstring after a rough leg day exercise, shooting a gun in the middle of a forest with the small chance of getting caught, or better yet, _attacked_ by another witch.

It was equally exhilarating as it was terrifying.

But also, Beca isn't being let off Scot free here since whenever the girl even comes close to you, your heart feels like it's seconds away from leaping from your chest.

Her stern voice as she instructed you how to shoot, the way she worked a gun in demonstration and the bad ass, no-one-better-fuck-with-me posture she carries herself with was-and _is_ -enough to make a constant, tingly sensation happen within your entire body.

Sometimes you wish that you didn't find Beca so unexplainably attractive-her snarky comments laced with ultimate sarcasm, the black leather and ripped up skinny jeans she flaunts herself with daily. You wish you didn't find her piercings and tattoos so ridiculously sexy when others think it's too " _alternative_." You wish you didn't get this hurricane of flutters in your stomach at even the thought of Beca because for one, she isn't even your type you'd normally go for-and actually, she's the exact _opposite_.

If that was the case and you were perfectly content at just being associated with Beca, it would save the amount of painful clenching going on in your chest at the rejection you get slapped with every time you see her. Heart cramps for you don't come often and you would've liked to keep it that way instead of falling for someone so fast, but of course Beca makes a dark appearance and _bam_ , you're swooning around her like a lovelorn school girl.

Slowly but surely tracking your way back home, you park your bug outside of the Bellas' and head inside to be greeted by your two house mothers reading something in the living room, who nearly pass out when they catch the nasty cut on your lip and teleport from point A to point B to examine the wound.

"What trouble did you get in, Chloe?" You can't really tell if Gail is angry at you for disappearing for the entire night without letting her know where you'd be, or if she's upset that you came back home looking like you just got into a fist fight. "This is not going to do around here," she concludes as she studies your lip and orders Kommissar to get her bag sitting on the couch.

You grit your teeth to the point of them breaking as you try not to snap back, or allow your mouth the freedom to roam on autopilot which is where word vomit would likely come falling out, getting you in a whole lot of trouble. It was one thing to get nursed by Beca, who was incredibly hot when she played doctor, and to get nursed by two witches.

You can take care of yourself and really wished you could say this without it coming off as rude.

Kommissar comes back with the makeup bag Gail asked for and whips out some Neosporin to hand over. Without warning after dabbing some of the gel on her index finger, she applies it directly on your cut and you almost wail in pain from the increasing stinging and lack of gentleness put around the injury.

This isn't a first time you've taken a rough hit to the face; you loved playing tether ball as a child with all the other kids during recess and because you grew up with two older brothers, one could say that you were more on the 'tom boy' side of personalities until you hit middle school and transformed into a junior plastic. Sports were never your strong suit; you enjoyed playing them, but where you good? _Absolutely not._

Yes, you work out on a daily basis according to your physique, love to go on long runs and your take of frequent spin and yoga classes come daily, but hand eye coordination, or anything involving a ball usually wound you up with an injury of some sort.

So, needless to say, you are vaguely familiar with the usage of Neosporin whenever your mom would nurse you up back to a healthy state. As far as you remember, when your mom put it on a cut wherever you got hurt, it never stung as bad as it currently is doing. Maybe it hurt at first when she'd touch the tender area, but never was it an _excruciating_ pain.

And right now, as you have to fight back the tears pooling in your eyes the longer the stinging occurs, you can admit that whatever Gail has applied to your face is one hundred percent _not_ Neosporin.

"We can't have our head Bella looking like raw meat," Gail mumbles, obviously ignoring the uncomfortable hissing slipping from your mouth whenever she touches a sensitive spot on your lip. And really? Raw meat? Now that's a little excessive, _Jesus_. "This should heal up no later than a couple days."

"Scarring?" Kommissar asks, both of them observing your lip like they're trying to solve a complicated puzzle. Their gaze stays a lot longer than anticipated and honestly, it's making you feel insanely uncomfortable, even more than how you already felt, which you didn't even think was possible. It makes you feel like a science experiment gone bad.

"Shouldn't," comes Gail's confident answer to the question and you want to scoff out loud, knowing there is no way this cut won't scar. "If it does, you know what we will have to use."

Right now, it sounds like they're having a private conversation meant for only the two of them regardless if you're standing right in front of them. The options are never ending when thinking about what they could possibly be referring to as a plan B type ointment, which could be, you think, more painful than whatever it was that they just applied, if possible. Enough of this weird, voodoo witch shit _please_. Next thing you know you'll grow a third eye, shoot webs out of your wrists, or something abnormal like that.

 _Wait a second._

 _Perhaps the web shooting thing isn't all that bad of deal._

"Uh, thanks?" you mumble, the words unintentionally sounding a lot like a question. "Sorry I was ou-"

"Where were you?" Gail cuts you off sharply, a look a disappointment tinted in her heavy glare. "Better yet, _who_ were you with?

On the inside, you're freaking the Hell out trying to muster up the best excuse here that will sound the most believable as to why you were out so late. If your house mothers ever found out about this whole training ordeal you've set up with Beca, you might as well pack your bags now before you turn into a witch's main course meal.

"I-I…" _Oh no,_ you think about aborting and making a run for it, but how would that look on your part? Sketchy as Hell, that's what.

"You weren't out with that Beca girl were you?" Gail's voice is as normal as a witches' tone gets, but the way she spits out Beca's name is venomous, which sets off several alarms in your head to come up with something fast before they catch onto all your lies.

Beads of sweat form at your hairline and you feel like you're going to throw up your entire digestive system at Gail's and Kommissar's sharp glares while they wait for you to answer. You scan the room, hoping to find a legit excuse to cover up the suspicions you brought into the house when Beca _specifically_ told you not to draw any attention towards yourself, but look at that.

You're basically under a fluorescent white spotlight.

Eyes landing on a huge group picture taken of the Bellas with Kappa Sigma sophomore year; one of the fraternities on campus, an idea sparks up once you land on a familiar face in the group photo.

"I was...at the library with _Tom_...helping him out with Calculus." That seems like a pretty valid excuse taking that Gail has been breathing down your neck to hang out with Tom since the fall mixer. Luckily, the two of them don't know you well enough to catch a fib when they hear one since you and math are the worst enemies.

Also, you do this thing with one of your eyebrows whenever you lie and it causes the area to twitch uncontrollably and right now, your left eyebrow feels as if it's about to leap straight from your face with all the added pressure.

Aubrey picked up on it one day a long time ago and ever since, she knows when you're fibbing to her, which eliminates trying to lie at all to your best friend because attempting to is just setting yourself up for failure, no thanks to your tweaked out brows.

You might have found a good reason as to why you were out so late, however, you don't have an excuse as to why you came back to the Bellas' house sporting a giant fat lip when you were busy "studying" at the library. It's not like you could say you got into a physical fight with one of the books on the shelves because you couldn't read it.

So this was a _problem_.

A wave of relief washes over Gail's features and thankfully she merely forgets all about the bruise on your lip and changes the topic direction at the mention of Tom. She also completely forgets about the possibility of you hanging out with Beca, so really it's a win win. Kudos for you! "He's a very nice boy, Chloe."

"Mhmm," you hum uninterested in the conversation with the best fake smile plastered you can muster up on your face. It feels just as painful talking about Tom as it did with the gun to the face, or even the weird black magic junk they put on your lip, and the small possibility of you two becoming a ' _thing_ ," churns your stomach in a sickly way.

But, of course, you can't say this and instead, you have to roll along with the idea, even though you'd rather date a potato.

"I should...go upstairs. I'm pretty tired." Or you just wanted to be nowhere near your house mother's because a small bit of you thinks these two witches can smell the lies radiating off of you like filth and don't want to chance anything tonight.

You fake a yawn, backing up just how tired you actually are and shuffle away from the two house mothers' beaming, yet extremely creepy grins pointed at you. You only make it about a couple feet away from the living room before Gail reels your attention back on her.

"You'll have to make up your studies sometime soon since you were unable to attend tonight's."

You cock a brow to your hairline as you try to understand what Gail could be talking about. If she is talking about mandatory sister " _bonding_ " as some sort of study hall get together, then count you out.

Nodding your head as a response, hopefully it's enough to dismiss you from the scene, Gail and Kommissar head back into the living room where their books are sitting face down on the table and you make a beeline for the stairs to hide in your room for the rest of the night. You wish you could hide in there for the rest of your _life_ until this whole thing blows over, but unfortunately, you can't.

As you're walking in the direction to your bedroom through the dark hallways of the Bellas' house, a choir of voices hit your senses and you follow them into the dining room where all your sisters holding hands are circled around the table where _eating_ is suppose to be done, but instead, it holds a giant book of some sort, circled by twenty or so individual candles. Each of them are dressed in long black dresses and it's hard to point out who is who because of the abnormally large, black fedora hats covering their faces.

The scene involving your sisters freezes you at the end of the stairs as you try to listen in on the sequenced song of words that almost sounds rehearsed, but all you can pick up is low mumbles. As you slowly creep closer, though, trying to examine the book that has the Bellas so intrigued while also trying to not make your presence known, you study a certain shape bordering the book that takes your breath away and almost knocks you straight back into your ass.

You might be an amateur when it comes to the witch world and the covens and the black magic, abracadabra _whatever_ , but you for one know the sinister creepiness of occult signs, especially if a large, upside down pentagram is painted in the middle of your sisters while they're chanting a bunch of incoherent, probably not even English lyrics at night time.

Your initial reflex is to scream, but you stop yourself from doing so by slapping a hand to your mouth and slowly back away from the seance, covering any screams or noises you're dying to make until your ankles come in contact with the bottom of the staircase and it tips you over. Scrambling back to your feet, you rush to the top of the stairs, maneuvering your way through the dimly lit house and eeriness it brings along to crawl up and down your spine.

There's more tears in your eyes when you make it up to your room and slam the door shut, locking it just in case, all from what you just witnessed, but you're unsure if it is out of fear, or at the realization and visible _proof_ that all your sisters are in danger. None of them are even acting remotely normal and you just witnessed the most abnormal, supernatural behavior and it makes you want to vomit.

No way are you getting enough out of this from Beca. The least she could do is take you out for some coffee while you're stuck helplessly in a witch nest with death at every corner, _Jesus_.

At least then you'd die happy while getting murdered by your sisters, eaten alive by Gail and Kommissar with one thing checked off your accomplishment list.

Oh boy.

How in the world are you going to make it out of here alive?

* * *

You would've figured that the constant flirtatious behavior and extra touchy feels your sisters have been participating in with any opposite sex male they could get their hands on would become second nature to you; the obnoxious giggles over the jokes that deserve a tomato thrown at them and the _overload_ of swooning you watch first hand, but it never does.

And actually, the longer you clench your hands at either sides of your legs not to slap the sense into your sisters, thus completely blowing your cover, you find it almost unbearably _painful_ to watch.

The days are going by exceptionally fast when taking in the fact that the Bellas' rush is taking place in forty eight hours and already, the event is the trending topic roaming around campus. Luckily, for Gail and Kommissar, the more bodies they have filling the house, especially in the _male_ _department_ , the more options they have when picking and choosing who they- _basically_ \- want to hold hostage and take part in their mega spell.

Personally, you don't know how the rush is going to go now that everything has changed in the worst way possible. Usually during this time of the year, which has worked its way up to one of your favorite events, it's a _giant_ party where you're able to meet new friends, dance with old, and _hopefully_ build a bigger sisterhood. Now, however, as you try to imagine the possibilities of what the weekend might bring, all you end up getting is a fuzzy image.

And that alone _terrifies_ you, not only for your sake, but everyone else involved, regardless if you know them on a personal level or not.

As for your emotional state, the nightmares have died down since the first night; you aren't waking up in cold sweats with your heart pounding like a nail in your eardrums. The fear of closing your eyes at the simple thought of your safety being in jeopardy has washed away after some time and all to blame for this improvement is Beca Mitchell.

Maybe the antisocial girl is hands down the most _awkward_ person when it comes to comforting people, but she tries and honestly, it's helped a lot, especially after the first night when you were startled awake by such a realistic, frightening dream. _Hence_ why you've been getting more and more sleep each night when you know Beca is right around the corner, willing to take a bullet for you.

Or should you say _spell_ for you, since you're living in a house full of witches and are basically participating in a cult.

Today you're stuck in class and though Russian Lit is a class almost boring enough to make you want to jump out of the third story building's window you happen to be sitting by, sitting in the classroom with other ( **normal** ) bystanders is where you feel the most safe since no one from the Bellas has it with you. Probably because they've all passed it a long time ago, or never had to take it for their major in the first place, but whatever.

 _Irrelevant_.

The teacher is going over some vocab on the whiteboard with all the other students taking notes for an upcoming test that seems pretty important and definitely is material that your attention should be focused on, but for whatever reason why you chose a seat right next to the window the first day of classes-which is now your permanent seat- has stolen any last bit of focus you had left for your last class of the day.

Chin being held up by one of your hands while the other pinches a pen in between your fingers to drum against the corner of your desk, you stare at the little bit of clouds moving in the sky and how the weather outside of Barden is peaceful and nice. Gentle. Calm.

You only wish it could be like this all the time, especially in the Bellas' house since the aroma in the house constantly feels like a dark and eerie thunderstorm that is in no way shape or form looking to run out of rain anytime soon.

It's sad, if you're being honest. The Bellas' house- _your_ house was a place you felt like yourself in; a place where you didn't have to hide who you really are for the sake of being judged. A place that was safe and easy to relax in. But as of now, where you can't even be yourself without drawing some sort of attention, it's a place where you _hate_ being, and now it feels like you're a prisoner trapped up inside there.

You sigh heavy at the thought, sulking deeper into your chair and hating the negative emotions you feel towards something that only brought you joy while your eyes remain glued to the sunny weather happening around you. It's not until your focus breaks when a familiar, black muscle car cruises up on the other side of campus and out pops the rebel herself-who should definitely be stuck in class like you currently are, like a good student-before she leans her back on the door of her car, crossing her legs at the ankles and knowing exactly where to look when you guys lock eyes.

Freezing is your initial reaction because there's a thought going through your mind that maybe you're hallucinating the picture and Beca, standing all in her attractive glory, with her black leather jacket, black boots and black aviators _isn't_ really standing there on the other side of the street.

So you blink, probably an unhealthy amount of times to figure out if being sleep deprived is causing your vision to make you believe that things are there when in reality they're not.

And even after checking multiple times to find out if this mirage is real or not, Beca is still standing there, smirking up at you from the street while your teacher's voice starts to fade out in background.

And you're stuck-literally _stuck_ in a boring classroom looking down at this girl when you'd rather be outside enjoying the beautiful weather, doing whatever it is that has caused her to miss all her afternoon classes and roam free for once in what feels like _months_.

The image is like a plate of freshly baked cookies sitting right in front of you, but you're trapped being tied up.

After you've came to realization that Beca is really standing outside of your classroom, wearing that dirty crooked smile of her's, you send off a little wave from outside the window and you really hope that no one is paying attention to you and your real life day dream. Your heart also suffers from a hurricane of flutters when seeing the freshman; something about the sight of the girl washes away all your fears and worries and brings along a whole new series of unfamiliar emotions that you have no idea what to think or even do with them.

Also, she's a _great_ distraction from school.

Beca is able to see that wave and you can see her smile only getting bigger, more evil and more mischievous. Instead of a wave back, she nods her head back, gesturing to her car before she pulls out something from her jacket pocket and you soon find out it's her phone.

Seconds later, your phone goes off in your lap where you've been occasionally checking social media during lecture to hide the fact that you've haven't been paying any attention to the professor, not even from the start of class.

You arch a brow when seeing Beca's name pop up on your lock screen and glance out the window where Beca is raising up her phone in the air, waving it side to side while mouthing a " _read it_ " for you to finally get the hint.

Opening up the text, it reads,

 **[Beca Mitchell 1:23 PM] Let's go somewhere**

And at first, you think that Beca has maybe lost her mind, no thanks to the added pressure she has been going through with the whole witch ordeal going on that is really up to her and her only to solve unless she wants the entire world to be taken over by a giant cult.

So delusional is understandable.

 _[Chloe Beale 1:24 PM] ?_

You take a look outside to catch any form of teasing on Beca's features from what you can see with sitting so high up in the English building, but end up catching nothing except a serious facial expression, along with that deathly crooked smile that proves the freshman isn't messing around.

 _[Chloe Beale 1:24 PM] I'm in class…_

 **[Beca Mitchell 1:24 PM] And?**

 **[Beca Mitchell 1:25 PM] Come on, Red. What's the craziest thing you've done in your life so far?**

The messages come almost instantaneously and it's shocking in two forms; one being that Beca actually wants you, Chloe Beale, to walk out of class, _ditch_ and go somewhere unknown with her, and the second being the thought of you actually following through with this when you've had _perfect_ attendance all four years of attending Barden.

Except that one time you got food poisoning and _physically_ couldn't make it to class without blowing chunks and Aubrey had to miss class and take care of you.

But that's it!

Never have you even _thought_ about ditching class, especially if the class is a subject that isn't your strong suit. Even the idea of walking out gives you an uneasy feeling in your stomach at the disappointment your parents, teachers and sisters may feel towards you-not that the Bellas really count as of right now since they aren't your _real_ sisters.

Still, you're a good kid who attends class, does well in school and practically has a halo circling above the top of your , the thought of doing something bad gives you a push of adrenaline the longer you battle your options whether or not you should leave.

Contemplating your decisions when looking back at the professor and seeing he is too busy being focused on whatever it is that he's writing on the board, you realize that you've always gone by the rules and did things that others expect you to do. Yes, you're a big girl and make all your decisions, but have they been decisions you actually enjoyed? When was the last time you've done something for yourself?

These questions aren't ones you have the answer for, but it definitely brings hesitation, which is probably why you move on autopilot to pack your things up in your backpack and start to head for the door, clearly hearing the professor stop mid sentence to follow you the entire way out the door with his eyes, as well as the other students' burning the back of your skull with equally intense and confused glares.

You're pretty positive you don't breathe the entire way out, either, nor make any eye contact with anyone except the ground since the very moment you are in the clear while standing alone in the ghostly hallways is the exact moment you exhale all the air in your lungs till you feel all the tension deflate into the school's tile floor and the hard part being finally over.

Or though you _thought_ until you start making your way down the stairs and grouped up by the windows on the second floor of the English building is Stacie and Aubrey talking privately and the sounds of your footsteps catch both of their attention with a simple turn of their heads.

You almost turn around and sprint back into your Russian Lit class just to avoid all the suspicious questions mustering up inside their heads when they see you walking down the stairs like a new kid who has never stepped foot in Barden before.

There's an emergency alarm blaring internally throughout your ears, telling you to abort as soon as possible when Aubrey and Stacie meet you halfway with the distance keeping you guys apart, but again, as a reflex and being unfamiliar with this whole rebellious, _being caught red handed doing something you shouldn't be doing_ actions, you freeze in your wooden wedges, hoping-scratch that, **praying** for the best outcome.

"Where are you off to, Missy?" Stacie chirps with a suspicious grin and a cross to her arms.

"Out," you reply casually, adding a simple shrug to your shoulders, as if it's not a big deal that you're doing something completely uncharacteristic of you.

Stacie buys it for the most part, her smile still glowing strong under the heavy loads of lip gloss she just recently applied by the looks of it, but Aubrey doesn't let you off the hook just yet and it's evident in the tight knit to her brows.

"Don't you have class right now?"

 _Of course_ Aubrey would remember your full school schedule, even while her brain is being brainwashed and controlled by a nauseating red potion created by your house mothers and erased all of her other morals. Why wouldn't she remember _this_ little thing? That'd be way too easy if she were to forget, just like how she forgot to put on clothes this morning with the tiny sundress she has on that luckily ( _barely_ ) covers all the good stuff.

The amount of legs and cleavage, however, are out in broad daylight and you don't exactly know when, or if you'll ever get use to seeing your best friend dress so promiscuous. Same with Stacie, who is in blue daisy duke shorts, a skin tight red tank top and wooden wedges, but with her, it seems more like her to show off some skin and her freakishly long, tan legs.

"I-I...uhhh," Scrambling to find an excuse, you land on the _opposite_ set of words you've been desperately trying to get a hold of and end up admitting the truth as to why you're suddenly roaming the hallways when you should be stuck in lecture. "I've decided not to go." You shrug again, hoping to ease nerves at the announcement that you're ditching. Not the best excuse in the books, but it's what you're working with.

"You never ditch class," Aubrey seems truly surprised by what you said, and surprised would come off as an understatement when taking into consideration that you're actually following through with leaving class. You half expected to get a third down the hallway before your morals and conscience kicked in, telling you that skipping is a horrible, _sinful_ idea.

But turns out, hanging out with Beca outweighs the fact that you could possibly get in trouble.

And are a terrible student- _oh no._

Beads of sweat are felt forming at your hairline by the glares radiating off both Stacie and Aubrey and you're positive that you're seconds away from throwing up your heart with the violent thumping happening in your throat. Quickly, Aubrey's suspicious glare transforms into a sickly fake grin that almost seems forced and she bats her lashes at you like nothing even happened.

Stacie also shifts, grabbing Aubrey's inner hand and lacing their fingers together without any sort of hesitation nor realization that the intertwining of their fingers seems very _intimate_ and definitely _new_. Aubrey doesn't even flinch, which only spikes your curiosity.

There's a difference between palm hand holding and fingers through fingers, lacing of fingers hand holding. The second way is what couples do and the first way is what friends do. What Aubrey and Stacie are currently doing is what _couples_ would do and if you weren't getting interrogated as to why you're ditching, you'd be more concerned about the visible affection shown between the two.

"Does ditching class have anything to do with Tom Smith?" Aubrey asks almost teasingly and Stacie emits a sickly giggle while dropping a "friendly" kiss to Aubrey's cheek.

You almost gawk- _almost_ , but you have the strength to keep your mouth closed at what you just witnessed. The hand holding already took you off guard and made communication impossible with the distraction; the kiss though, took you for a toilet bowl swirl in the hallucination department.

But you focus hard, enough to remember Tom's name being mentioned.

And now you know exactly why Aubrey just pulled a complete 180 with her interrogation from concerned to intrigued. It's been days and constantly that your sisters have been hassling you about getting together with Tom. Even Gail and Kommissar have been encouraging it if you remember the frat's mixer last weekend. Perhaps it had to do with the whole "spell" thing and Tom is super athletic and smart and very good looking, but to you it's just nails on a chalkboard _annoying_.

Also, the thought of being an item with Tom-no offence on him since he's a sweet boy _most_ of the time- churns your stomach in the most unpleasant ways.

But honestly, no offense.

"Yes," you answer, fighting the urge to roll your eyes at the lie, but admitting to ditching class was bad enough. Telling Aubrey and Stacie that you were ditching because of Beca, who has proven to be a strict 'no' in the Bellas' house seemed even worse. "And I kinda need to like...meet him, or something," you spill abruptly, ushering by the girls and their confused stares, awkwardly stepping down the first set of stairs before waving them off behind the back.

You hate lying to your sisters.

Correction, you hate lying _period_ , which is probably why you're being so awkward about this as you scurry down the hallways with her attention glued to the ground. For your sake, making outside comes rather quickly, so you don't have to endure the torture any longer before the midnight black muscle car is in plain view, as well as the main reason as to why you're skipping class.

Catching your presence the moment you walk out of the English building, "took you long enough!" Beca hollers from where she's still propped up against her car, smirk, now that you're closer, hits you like a semi truck straight to the gut.

"Sorry but I was confronted by my sisters in the hallway _demanding_ to know where I was going since I _should_ be in class right now," you retort when making it to Beca's car with a similar grin on your face, the twisty feeling of butterflies also present in your stomach and already feeling better about leaving. "Though I'd rather be stuck in a boring lecture for two hours than endure another shooting lesson. My lip _just_ healed up, Becs!"

"I don't know, you looked kinda cute with a fat lip," Beca says through a playful smirk, her eyes falling down to stare at your lips for the briefest of seconds and you don't know what to focus more on. That Beca just called you cute, or the fact that she was just caught staring at your lips without any shame whatsoever. Someone pinch you-you might be dreaming. "But I was thinking of doing something else rather than training today."

You take in the playful waggle to Beca's eyebrows and her tongue slightly poking out between her teeth. By far, is this the most emotion you've seen come from Beca and really need to pinch yourself just to make sure you're actually seeing the right thing.

"And what do you have in mind, Mitchell?" There are endless possibilities; all of them under the category of _dangerous_ , you can assume, knowing what a daredevil Beca truly is.

But that's exciting.

"That's for me to know and you find out," is all Beca informs you with, smug so secretive and _oh so_ attractive.

You roll your head back with a throaty laugh, along with an eye roll at Beca's antics. "Of course. Why would I ever think you'd tell me something that isn't some sort of riddle?"

"Where's the fun in being honest all the time?" Beca watches as you walk around to the passenger side of her car and lean your elbows up on top of the hood, staring at Beca with a shimmer to your eyes. "There needs to be a little mystery in life otherwise it's the boring, same old shit everyday."

"Okay, but where is the trust if all that comes out of your mouth is lies, huh?" you battle back with. "That's an easy way to lose friends if you aren't being honest."

"Well it's kept you around for this long. Apparently a little mystery here and there keeps you interested, Red." Beca descends into the driver's seat, unlocking the door for you to get in.

You snap out of your minor case of paralysis under such an overpowering smirk, and follow Beca inside the vehicle. Inside, she is staring at you intently, watching every move you make to get comfortable in the seat before the car roars to life and she's speeding off down the road, the picture of Barden slowly disappearing as she takes a sharp turn down a nearby neighborhood.

* * *

 **Bellas' rush next chap, folks. Going to be a party you don't want to miss ;)**


	8. Chapter 8

**Brace yourselves for a long chap, folks. Grab your popcorn, make yourself comfy ;)**

* * *

 **Chapter Eight: Shooting Bullets at the Moon**

Setting your school bag aside and pushing away all the hair from your face, "Alright, trouble. Now that you've kidnapped me from my studies, what do you planning on doing to me?" You're the first to bring up conversation, body deflating into a relaxed state now that the guilt of ditching classes is long gone. Also, the absence of knowing exactly what Beca is planning, which involves you is more than a little exhilarating. "Or should I say _with_ me and if that's the case here, I must admit that I'm _terrified_ of needles and drowning, so if you plan to chop me up into tiny little pieces and leave my bits out in the middle of nowhere, I'm willing to put up a fight."

Beca tears her focus off the road with a small squint to both her eyes, though you're unable to fully tell because of the pitch black glasses covering her eyes. The scrunch to the eyebrows is a dead give away that she thinks you're a third of the way there to _Crazyville_. "I'm always up for a challenge." A smirk follows once saying this, neither confirming nor denying the suggestion about going full on Michael Myers with your prissy behind.

And that should be a flashing, red light right there, screaming at you to turn around and abort this hang out with a previously revealed witch hunter who has certain abilities you've never been accounted with before and maybe-just maybe- you should be terrified for the sake of your life.

Admittedly, however, the brief thought of separating with the rebel to go back and learn stupid Russian in a classroom for a couple hours doesn't sound appealing one bit. Hanging out with Beca, this _so-called_ - _sexy-rebel_ sounds so much better, regardless if she plans to kill you or not.

At least then you'll have the extra eye candy while she smothers you to death.

"Are you going to tell me where we are going, or are you going to keep it a secret, like majority of the stuff I've found out so far." It was suppose to come out as a joke; you were even caught smiling about it, but to Beca she only frowned and her grip around the steering wheel tightened and seeing this signals that you might've hit a soft spot, which doesn't seem possible since Beca is a walking iron human.

"I'm not good at...opening up," Beca admits in a hushed tone, her jaw clenching as if she's not personally happy with herself for being closed off and now you feel like a complete jackass for your obvious failed attempt at a joke. "Trusting people and all. Keeping everything to myself is just easier, _obviously_."

Earlier, you had a different view on this; you hated the fact that getting the truth out from Beca was like pulling teeth from a child. Even getting a last name and an explanation of who she really is was a task that borderlined _impossible_. Now, it's a different story. It makes sense why Beca stayed in the shadows and didn't have ' _witch hunter_ ' written on her name tag.

Something about the label isn't really a good ice breaker when meeting new people.

"I lied to you about a lot of shit going on with my life and me personally- _huge_ things," Beca continues, her voice wavering off in a fragile, non characteristic way and it's a bit startling to hear. "Am I sorry? Of course. Would I wish to go back and change everything? Absolutely not, because, yeah, there's always a chance to apologize but never a chance to go back and change the past."

You take a moment to think this over; it's a scary kind of accurate, it you're being honest. Yes, you were angry at the lies, confused on the situation and, most of all, _hurt_ that she couldn't tell you things, but now it's quite the opposite. Everyone has their own dark secrets.

Difference is whether or not you're willing to voice them and deal with the consequences.

Thick silence floods the car, the roaring from the engine and satisfying pur to the sports car is the only sound present between the both of you. Honestly, it's awkward, the feeling of making Beca feel bad about keeping so many secrets is covering your skin like a nasty case of the chicken pox that is excruciatingly uncomfortable.

You're about to apologize about saying anything at all, maybe lighten the mood with your usual attempt of humor that would probably earn an eyeroll from the freshman and things would fall back in place like normal.

But Beca beats you to it.

"My uh...my favorite color is blue." It's so random and so generic, especially her voice being so monotoned, but for you, it's progress. In fact, It's Beca slowly taking baby steps towards opening up to you, feeling comfortable about sharing personal stuff and your ribs inflate through your skin by how much your heart is swelling at the gesture.

"Like a _navy_ blue? A shade so dark that it's basically black?" you joke with a smirk, the environment in the car already returning back to normal. You're also surprised that Beca's favorite color isn't in fact, _black_ , since that's all she wears.

But then again, half of what you discover about the girl takes you for a complete three sixty spin, so assuming anything about Beca is a lost cause and waste of energy by this point.

"Nope," Beca answers, switching the gear shift with her right hand and every tug pulls at something in your gut in the most pleasant ways. "Blue like the _ocean_ on a sunny day. Blue like the sky without a cloud in sight."

You stare dreamy at Beca's words; they're basically poetry without even knowing it and anymore might drive you into permanent adoration.

She turns her head ever so lightly, looking you dead in the eyes and you tighten your fist with incredible force where they rest on either sides of your dress covered thighs, attempting to fight the swooning you desperately want to do.

"Blue like your eyes."

And, _wow_ , okay.

If it was physically possible, you think you just melted straight through the leather of the car's seats, but it's not, though on the inside with how genuine Beca sounds; the way she is staring at you through her sunglasses makes you feel as if you did.

 _Activate uncontrollable swooning in three, two, one..._

"Blue like the cotton candy you get at carnivals," Beca adverts the seriousness of the topic to something more funny that pulls a small smile out from you, and you're actually thankful for the reroute because if she were to say anything else sweet as sugar, you were sure you'd combust.

You bat your lashes playfully at Beca, even though she has turned her attention back to the road. "Are you telling me that Ms. Witch Hunter has a guilty pleasure for carnivals and cotton candy?"

Beca shakes her head, but you know it's a lie. "Absolutely not. Cotton candy is just… _bizarre_...the way it melts in your mouth."

"Cotton candy is melted sugar," you voice your knowledge on the candy, finding this out a long time ago when the question, ' _why does cotton candy melt like water in your mouth?_ ' came about as a child. "Since sugar is hygroscopic, water-loving, it easily absorbs the water vapor from humid surroundings; or once it is out of its sealed packaging."

The extra description pulls a raspy chuckle out of Beca and it's the most _glorious_ , gut churning noise you've ever had the pleasure of hearing. When you'll be able to make it through an hour with Beca, let alone _fifteen minutes_ without feeling like you just swallowed a bucket of butterflies is something beyond you. Impossible, even.

"Okay _know it all._ No need to brag about your nerdy knowledge for sugar."

"Didn't you know it's why I'm so sweet? Basically, salt tastes like sugar when I'm around," you throw in a wink for extra measures and Beca adverts her attention back to the road with a light chuckle, not declining this comment. "I could teach you a few things, you know," you gloat proudly, shrugging your shoulders when Beca takes a glance at you. "Especially around the kitchen."

"What's that suppose to mean?" There's a hint of offence in Beca's tone, and it makes you smile even wider.

"I don't know about you, but living off of grilled cheeses aren't a way to live and _definitely_ aren't a nutritional meal to keep the body up and running healthy while defeating witches."

"You hating on my grilled cheeses, Red?" Another shift in gears, another innocent smirk, _another_ minor heart attack for you while watching Beca operate this fancy car so smoothly. It makes you wonder what else her hands are capable of, in the most appropriate ( _but also very x-rated_ ) ways, of course.

"Of course not!" you defend loudly and giggle at Beca's adorable attempt to act hurt about it, her nose scrunching like she got a whiff of dirty trash and the stink face is really just _stinkin_ ' adorable. "It was _delicious_ ," you assure and it's nothing but the truth as the sandwich taste still roams over your tastebuds. The crispy crust, the way the cheese was melted perfectly. Hands down, it was the best grilled cheese you've had. Pondering for a second, "you ever try roasted, lemon chicken?"

Taken back by the question, Beca shakes her head, admitting to never had tried this dish before, which happens to be your all time favorite and that alone works up several ideas you have cookin' in the brain.

"Well lucky for you I have the _best_ recipe!" you chirp excitedly; Beca side glances at you again with negative emotion, however, after a while, her face shifts upwards into that killer, well known smirk of her's, your enthusiasm transforming into _hard_ swooning within seconds.

"Tough luck, I'm a vegetarian," Beca mumbles matter of factly, lifting her shoulders up with this.

"Nice try, Beca. You may come with a whole book of secrets that I'm only just getting to know about you and are a real life, black hole _mystery,_ but a witch hunter as badass as you being a vegetarian is as believable as the Easter Bunny." You know she's lying. You _hope_ she's lying, because that will for sure limit the places to eat when she does, _eventually_ , give into the obvious chemistry between you guys and let's you take her on a date.

Hopefully sometime in the near future, before you start growing grey hairs and lose all your teeth that will make impressing the freshman a difficult task.

Beca doesn't answer back to this, only keeps her smirk pointed towards the dashboard over the steering wheel and that's enough confirmation you need.

 _Vegetarian my ass._

Silence emerges around the two of you again, yet this time there's nothing awkward about it. Beca has now rolled down the window on her side of the car, chocolate, loose curls flowing majestically through the wind. Every so often, she lifts her hand from the wheel to drag her fingers through her hair, controlling the fly always that get caught in her vision and you find the sight _magnetic_ and _impossible_ to look away.

Soft music has turned on, as well, making the drive not completely silent; Beca starts tapping her silver covered knuckles against the stick shift and steering wheel. It's playing through Beca's phone connected to the built in radio on the dash, a familiar artist's voice catching your attention. Fingers tap in sync with the beat against your thighs just below where your dress ends, the song being one of your favorites and it's becoming harder and harder not to belt the lyrics.

Beca sees this out of the corner of her eye, you think, no thanks to the humming you begin doing instead of actually _singing_ and she seems amused by whatever it is that you're doing as you swallow down the lyrics, making it not completely embarrassing.

The need to sing becomes unbearable once the chorus comes around and it's then you can't keep it in anymore. " _I should be over all the butterflies but I'm into you, I'm into you_." You have enough strength to keep your voice low and not overpower the car with your singing, but it's loud enough to catch Beca's full attention when the car stops at a red light, the dark shades of her glasses reflecting off the little light shining into the car. " _And baby even on our worst nights, I'm into you, I'm into you._ "

And her eyes stay on you while singing-this time you're able to catch those enticing, cloudy blue eyes when her sunglasses are removed and placed on the top of her head. You have to look out the window when seeing stormy blues and grey over a shadow of eyeliner, and how her pupils become dilated with passion as a new wave of uncharacteristic shyness becomes an issue for you.

" _Let 'em wonder how we got this far, cause I don't really need to wonder at all."_ Feeling less and less confident and more intimidated by Beca's strong glare ( _Jesus_ , _how long is this redlight_?!) your voice quiets to almost a whisper, chancing one last time to meet Beca's gaze. " _Yeah after all this time...I'm still into you."_

Finished singing, yours and Beca's eyes are super glued to each other, the melodic voice of Paramore playing in the background starts to fade away, leaving your ears to ring with this pulsing static. You believe it's some sort of movie moment between you two, something you and Aubrey would cry about over your Monday nights, cheesy, rom com chick flicks, claiming the characters are deeply _in love_ and this moment is nearly seconds before they kiss, and live happily ever after.

But before any of this could happen, a sudden honk from the car behind Beca's reels you out of your little trance, the light apparently having been green for a while and you giggle under a cupped hand when Beca flips off _Mr_. _Impatient_ before speeding off. Aviators sliding back down the bridge of her nose, covering those hypnotizing weapons for your own sake.

"You have a lovely voice," Beca compliments nonchalant, focus targeted back onto the streets and a compliment that you've heard _multiple_ times shouldn't have the heavy effect it has on you this time.

Seriously, why does everything this girl does twist your stomach into a Boy Scout knot and make your heart feel like it's seconds away from bursting like a water balloon?

You also bite your tongue not to slip out something like, " _you would've figured this out sooner if you had attended karaoke night when I invited you that one time, where we **would've** sang a duet and 'awed' the world with our beautiful harmonies and it would've been super romantic."_

Because even though it was quite some time ago and for the most part you've gotten over it, the slight hint of hurt was still there when you left the bar without singing at least _one_ duet.

"You're familiar with Paramore, I see," Beca notes and almost seems impressed, like your entire library consists of boy bands and Bieber.

You want to scoff-you _do_ scoff because, _hello,_ everyone who is anyone knows Paramore, regardless if they like the music genre or not. It's the truthful fact. " _Totes_! I went through a major skater phase in middle school, all the way up to sophomore year of high school, just like any other preteen trying to fit the social norm."

And if you ever want a trip down memory lane, just dig deep in your closet back in Tampa, through all the plaid, black nail polish, raccoon eyes, Avril Lavigne CDs and ripped up skinny jeans and take a gander at the _biggest_ , fashion mistake period of your life.

Talk about a pile of eyeliner, the horrid, comb over bangs and a laundry bag full of _regrets_.

Beca raises her eyebrows up surprised. "Then what? You made it to junior year and transformed into Beverly Hills, redheaded _barbie_ _doll_ next door?"

Okay, that was extremely descriptive and entirely incorrect.

" _No_ ," you answer curtly and smug. Cute and ' _summer-y_ ' would be your classifications on your wardrobe choices, not suburban, boujee bimbo from California-though that lifestyle, you hate to admit- sounds heavenly. "As you know, it gets hot in Florida." Hot would be an understatement, especially in the summer, where anything below a hundred, over ninety degrees is a blessing, _phew_. "And I couldn't keep walking around outside in skinny jeans and rock band t-shirts without sweating off my body weight."

"Gross." Beca is cringing at the unpleasant image you planted, but she has on this cute little half smile thing and momentarily, you forget entirely what she is even targeting her disgust towards. "Well at least now you gave ' _preppy_ ' a whole new meaning. Seriously, do you even wear jeans? Shorts even? Or do you flaunt yourself in high heels, dresses and Coachella wear even to bed?"

"Yes I do!" you exclaim, only slightly offended that Beca assumed you lived your daily life in sundresses and heels. _Yes_ , you wear dresses more often than not; they're comfortable and _hello_ , you're a girl who's allowed to love dresses, but you also work out on the daily and that requires athletic wear and running in heels screams a broken ankle.

"Do _you_ wear anything other than black leather?" you shoot back, smug and determined to win this argument.

"No." Well, that defeats the purpose and your planned victory lap.

You should've known that Beca lived her life in dark colors since her life and hobby choices are, as well, dark and mysterious. Now that you think about it, bright colors on the girl would just look abnormal and bizarre if you ever caught her in something else other than black. Either way, the whole _bad girl_ , motorcycle gang look Beca has going for her is extremely attractive and you personally, enjoy staring at every inch of it.

"I helped you know," Beca speaks up all of a sudden and you're completely clueless as to what she's talking about when before the topic was based on clothes."With the song or whatever. Hayley and I go way back." With the bland confession, a smirk is thrown into the mix at your gawking once all the pieces are put together.

Because, oh, that's right. Beca is like a _huge_ superstar music producer away from all the shooting, the witches, the blood and violence. Someone with money, fame and incredible talent when it comes to mixing music. It's almost hard to believe that she lives a normal life back out in California when she's not busy saving the world from a bunch of crazy bitches.

Silly you.

How could you possibly forget?

You open and close your mouth a few times with nothing coming out; the words at the tip of your tongue, but you don't know where to even start. Beca just openly admitting to being behind the magical lyrics and catchy, upbeat tune to one of your all time favorite songs is a little hard to wrap your head around.

Also, she's on a first name bases with Hayley Williams; your first ever girl crush who helped you through the realization that yeah, you like girls, _a lot_ , and that's pretty _freaking_ cool.

Beca side glances at you a total of four times, her face curling more and more each time. "Are you having a stroke?" she comments worriedly with a hint of amusement when you're seen still _desperately_ trying to fish and catch the right set of words to explain how amazed you are by such a work of art that has been played an illegal amount of times on your phone. "Please tell me you aren't having a stroke."

Disregarding the stroke comment-even though having a stroke seems very possible by this point, "you write music?" Finally, you step out of your little fangirling transformation and is able to speak actual words. Beca hums a confirmation, not paying you any attention and instead, her focus is glued to the dirt road she has now turned onto. Realization of the response hits you full blast. "You're like a…. _huge_ deal, Beca!" you exclaim as if beca doesn't already know this, brain now fully processing everything and voice gaining more volume, but has a shake to the words from all the gravel on the road.

"It's nothing."

You open and close your mouth again by Beca's casual shrug towards her social ranking. _It's nothing_ would be that's she's a girl. _It's nothing_ would be that she has brown hair. _It's nothing_ is definitely not acceptable for the fact she's a famous, music producer who works with big time artists and _apparently_ writes her own dang songs.

"What else don't I know about you?" you ask incredulously, interested in all of Beca's other secrets she's kept locked up, but also slightly nervous to hear what they are.

Wait, no.

You're **really** freaking nervous to hear what they are, because like most things about the girl, it takes you blind sighted because they could be _literally_ anything in the books.

Too focused on Beca's every move, you miss her pulling into an empty parking lot outside of some old, beat up looking bar, next to a group of motorcycles, redneck pick up trucks and a group of old men smoking outside the back entrance. Muffled rock music could be heard somewhere behind the thick cloud of grey smoke covering the outside and if Beca expects you to go inside this smoke chamber without a gas mask, she has another thing comin'.

Smoothly whipping into an empty space which allows Beca to show off her Vin Diesel skills, go figure, "that I happen to be an _expert_ at kicking people's asses in pool," she says smug, turning the engine off and sliding an unlit cigarette through her ear, but you're too focused on the creepiness of the place to even bother looking at her, even though Beca's face has worked up to being your favorite sights to look at. "Come on."

You feel the car move and definitely hear the door open, signaling that Beca has now exited the vehicle and is waiting outside for you to join her. You want to follow, but then again you take a look at the place and how you, dressed in a _bright yellow_ sundress, with wedges at least a foot tall stick out like a Goddamn sore thumb, unlike Beca, who fits in perfectly with the smoking, the black leather, the Sons of Anarchy look that you're so far from and realizing this, going in screams a terrible idea.

One guy from the group eyes you from inside the car where your window is rolled down, his creepy, rapist smile bringing chills along your spine and the gross finger wave he throws along with it makes your bones chatter. Your skeleton nearly jumps from your skin when Beca pops up right where your line of sight is pointed to and she chuckles at how jumpy you've become (not that this is a new trait; you've always been the girl who is scared of her own shadow).

Folding her arms along the area where the window ends, fingers tapping impatiently against the interior, "you coming?" she asks with that stupid half smile of hers, obvlious of Mr. Pedophile checking you out from the distance with his buddies and you can see your terrified reflection through her midnight black aviators.

Does she really expect you to go into some run down, old school looking bar dressed like-her words- a Beverly Hills, Barbie doll? That's a mistake waiting to happen and if you have any say in this, you feel a lot safer outside, locked in Beca's muscle car, no matter if it's a hundred degrees outside. The closest thing to a bar you've been to is the one next to Barden, where there's a DJ booth, fancy lights, cocktails and strobe lights, _for crying out loud._ Nothing nearly as scary as this has crossed your mind and it sure as Hell isn't going to change now.

Beca releases a heavy sigh when you don't move, lifting her sunglasses from her eyes and there's a softer look to her features. It's calms you to see the smallest fraction of her caring about your safety and how there's a glint in her dark eyes that she'll protect you from anything if necessary.

"You don't wanna go in?" You shake your head, agreeing to this faster than lightning. _Hell no_ you don't want to go in; you don't have a death wish! "Do you wanna go back to Barden?" You don't know whether to shake your head 'yes' to this, or shake your head 'no' because _yeah_ , you don't want to go inside the creepy bar, but _no_ you don't want to go back to Barden.

Why can't you and Beca do something normal and not completely dangerous like normal, college students? A trip to the coffee house, a peaceful, picnic in the park, or a game of freaking mini golf sounds a whole lot better than getting shanked out in the middle of nowhere by drunk, old men.

And thinking about this brings a pleading glint to your eyes when you look at Beca, hoping it will be enough to have her follow through on leaving.

There's another sigh and Beca rolls her head in a circular motion, giving you a full view of the top of her head and you for a second think you've won. She steals the cigarette out from her ear, as well as a lighter from her pocket, lighting it from her lips and blows out a puff of smoke while she shoves her lighter back into her jacket's pocket.

The whole sight is mesmerizing to watch. From the way the cigarette hangs delicately from her mouth, the prominent definition of her jaw structure when she inhales. Even the God awful smell from the smoke doesn't even faze you; you don't even think a bomb explosion could be enough to tear your eyes away from such a beautiful, intoxicating creation.

"If you wanna go back," Beca starts, her voice sounding disappointed and it's actually enough to make you feel shitty about your automatic decline to go in before giving this place a chance. "We'll go back."

There's mixed feelings; half of you wants to sack up and stop living life being so scared of every little thing you encounter, and the other half wants to get out of here as fast as possible before one one you two (probably you) gets kidnapped. Beca's deflated look on her face also doesn't help because the last thing you want to do is be this uptown, weak girl who never lives her life life on the edge-even though you so totally proved yourself when you up and walked out of class during lecture.

Sorry, but that's pretty rebellious, for _you_ , that is.

"We will go back," Beca repeats, taking another inhale of her cigarette and sliding back down her sunglasses as she takes a look around the parking lot, now drumming her hands against the interior.

You release a breath of relief, feeling relieved that you guys are finally leaving, but bummed that you've flipped Beca's whole mood. Expecting Beca to walk back to the drivers side after announcing that you two were leaving, she doesn't, and actually doesn't even move from the spot where she's leaning against the window.

"We will go back _a_ _fter_ I kick your ass at pool." But then she announces this through a dirty smile that widens by the second and smacks the inside of the door with a small beat before turning on her heels, marching up to the rusty, maroon colored doors connected to the bar with you stunned to your seat, gawking at the path Beca walked away in.

She has to be joking.

No way would she just leave you here, right? With creepy dudes who are staring at you like a piece of meat. She has more courtesy than that, you think-you _hope_.

"Are you serious?!" You yell out when the only sight you see is the back of Beca's head making her way to the closed doors, the possibility of her joking starting to become more slim.

"You wanna leave? You can walk!" Beca is laughing at you from the distance and even has the audacity to greet the group of creepy guys that were- **are** \- checking you out with a friendly head nod.

Maybe you expected Beca to be your knight and shinning armor and sweet talk her way with words to get you to go inside. Maybe she'd say something like, " _I will never let anything happen to you_ ," or " _you're safe when you're with me,_ " like some cheesy, Twilight movie with the notorious bad boy and the damsel in distress girl, but she doesn't.

Instead, she leaves you in the middle of the parking lot with a group of gross guys without a care to the world or you, in general, and all you can do is get up, slam the door with all your might, huff out annoyed through your nostrils like a raging bull, arms crossed above your chest as you walk the same track of Beca's footsteps, avoid making any eye contact with the men who are looking at you like a piece of steak until you make it to the door and enter the smoke filled room against your will.

Inside, your lungs can barely take the strong stench of cigarettes and you have a coughing fit the exact moment your senses are overwhelmed with the smell coming from every direction. Upon entering, it's like the whole bar shifts into this awkward, muted silence where all eyes are stuck on you while you hack up a lung, blowing your cover-if you even had one from the start- that a girl like you should not be caught dead inside a place like this.

Heart rate spikes when looking around the dimly lit bar for the freshman who _seconds_ ago left you stranded and come out not finding a trace of where she could be. Everyone around you is at least forty and above in age; all having some type of biker leather on them, at least one tattoo somewhere on their body, the hit area being the neck region and truthfully, the place has bad news written all over, as well as very unsanitary.

 _Dammit, Beca, where are you?_ You think quietly to yourself, masking the amount of panic radiating through your body the longer you have every stranger's eyes on you.

Perhaps staying in the car, or at least walking back to school was the safer option and now you're greatly regretting your decision on leaving. But Beca is so attractive and you crave her presence like a hard drug, which makes it impossible to resist her presence and choose to _not_ be around her.

And now because of this, you're seconds away from getting either lung cancer, or murdered, all because the simple thought of leaving Beca makes you want to die.

"Now you look lost, little lady." As embarrassing as it sounds, but clearly not anything out of the ordinary, you squeak in a mixture of surprise and fear by the sudden deep voice behind you, startling you like normal. "What is a pretty gal like you doing in a scary bar like this?" Too scared to turn around, mystery voice is close to your ear and his voice raises up the hair on the back of your neck.

You can ask yourself the same question, but turns out the answer is because of an inconsiderate, five foot, _ridiculously_ sexy girl left you outside to be eaten by the wolves and you had no other choice but to follow her inside. Now, she is MIA and you are sweating bullets to find her before it's too late.

A random hand touches your shoulder from behind; you catch the black ink written on his hand and over his knuckles, designed like a tree, and like a light switch, defensive mode kicks in, causing you to take that same hand and twist it upwards, sending mystery man to wail out in pain from the position of where his hand is now facing and shouldn't _ever_ be facing, unless he wanted a bone to protrude from his skin.

Once you've turned around to give the guy a good crotch shot to send a message not to touch you _ever_ again, you see he is a young, extremely- _surprising_ \- attractive blonde guy who is now on his knees from how you're inhumanly twisting the bone in his wrist, hissing from the pain and begging for you to let go. Behind his agony, enjoying the show and sitting on one of the stools at the bar is the same girl who left you moments ago and the _same_ girl who you've been trying to find the very moment you walked into this nightmare of a place.

Beca claps slowly as you release the grip from the man's wrist, her highly amused laughs echoing the graffitied walls, LED beer signs and dart boards of the bar while everyone's attention around goes back to what they were doing before, as if bar fights like this is a normal occurrence.

It takes a while for the blonde guy to get up from his knees and dust off the junk he gathered on his jeans from kneeling, but when he does rise from his kneeling position, cupping the injured area with his other hand, he as well is laughing about something you have no idea what it could be.

Either this guy is maniacal, or he's well... _bat shit_ crazy.

Hot, but crazy.

"You taught her that, mate?" The blonde guy breathes impressed, eyeing you like you've just performed a triple backflip and landed it perfectly. Apparently, not only does this mystery man know Beca personally, but he also has a British accent, and is so far from the deep southern, horse riding cowboy facade he just put on, which is startling, too.

"No, that was all her," Beca says in between laughs; you're still puzzled on what she thinks is so funny. It better not be the whole situation where you got left by her because that is _everything_ but hysterical. More along the lines of an asshole move, but whatever. "Damn, Red. I knew you had some fight in you."

The blonde guy shakes out the rest of the pain from his hand and walks back over to the bar where Beca is sitting, you following closely behind to figure out what in the world is going on. Confusion doesn't even allow you the chance to praise yourself on your sudden defensive moves you just pulled on someone who you assumed was a threat to your safety, even with Beca looking at you the way she is, like for the first time ever you _actually_ impressed her.

"I took a self defense class with my brothers over the summer before college. Mother wanted me prepared to be on my own," you confess cautiously, still uneasy about this guy behind the counter and being in a bar like this. You take a seat next to Beca who has discarded her glasses onto the table table and has a brown drink she's tinkering around with her fingernails against the glass.

Eyeing both the blonde and Beca, "you two know each other?"

Beca and the blonde guy share a smug look; a look that doesn't answer your question and leaves you completely out of their little telepathy loop, inside joke nonsense. "You could say that," Is all Beca says before taking a long swig of her drink that can now be classified as Whiskey since you're in a closer range to smell the strong stench radiating off the dark liquor.

It's still not enough for you, though. Like, is this guy a friend of Beca's, maybe even a relative-though they look _nothing_ alike. A possible _boyfriend_ , maybe, which is more painful to think about. All you know is that the guy is like a walking, tattooed, British Hollister model who can do a impressively good southern accent and is a bartender at this strangely deserted and insanely creepy bar.

"Are you like her?" You ask while your eyes replace your fingers to point at Beca and the blonde stops what he's doing behind the counter where he's organizing all the alcohol and arches up a brow. Not catching your drift, you look around the bar to make sure no one is listening or can hear you. "Are you like... _a witch hunter?"_ you whisper the last part, as best and quietly as you can without outing Beca's entire secret alter ego, leaning in enough for only the blonde guy to hear.

What you aren't prepared for is the sharp gasp at the question and it quickly pulls you away by a force as if you have done something solely wrong.

Appalled, the blonde directs the question, "you're a witch hunter?!" to Beca. His eyes are brimming to pop from his skull while also stuck to Beca who is muttering a, " _way to go, Red_ " and you feel like one of those girls who can't keep a secret to save her life.

A gossip hound.

 _Oh no_ , you're a gossip hound and Beca's going to hate you forever.

"I can't believe you're a _bloody_ witch hunter and didn't even tell me!" The blonde hisses angrily at Beca and _God_ , he was so much more attractive when he wasn't all red in the face with his veins protruding through his neck, causing the biggest scene in bar history.

You're already on the train to word vomit a string of apologies and something that could easily mistake and cover up what you actually said. "I-I...no! She's not! Witch hunter? _As if!_ I'm just… I have no idea what I'm talking about, really!" you splutter out nervously, hands waving up frantically in the air, trying to erase your previous words before you can even notice that both Beca and the bartender are, again, laughing at you for a reason you aren't really sure of.

The blonde guy's facial expression morphs from appalled, to amused, a teasing laugh making a grand appearance. "I'm totally fuckin' with you, Ginge," he says as his laughing subsides and he is returning back to his previous chore of organizing the liquor bottles. "Yeah I kill witches," he finally answers your question nonchalant with a shrug; an answer that could've _easily_ been his first response, rather than giving you a minor heart attack, thinking that you totally just outed Beca's secret. "Becky and I go way back."

 _Becky?_

 _Who the Hell was Becky?_

You point a sharp glare to Beca who surprisingly isn't laughing anymore, but still has that stupid (yet extremely attractive) smirk stuck to her face as she finishes off the last little bit of her cigarette.

"Name's Luke." The British blonde holds out his hand for you to shake and it only takes a few seconds for you to register that he's waiting on you to take it. Curving up your best attempt at a smile, he releases your hand from his strong shake. "Wanna drink?"

After brief contemplation, "I'll take a shot of tequila, skip the salt and lime," you answer without a flinch in your voice, not even skipping a beat and you see two sets of eyebrows shoot up at the drink choice.

It's not your go to and technically you're barely even considered a drinker, but figuring out that Beca has been lying about her entire purpose at Barden was one thing- _this_ is just the cherry on top and if you're going to make it through another second in this dirty bar, you might as well be **drunk**.

Was there like a " _I kill witches_ " club that you missed the memo about? Probably, but you won't find out until weeks later, just like the rest of the crazy shit you've discovered recently.

Luke pours you the shot and you down it before it even has a nanosecond on the table. You hiss at the taste, blow out the burn and shake your head to get rid of both of them, together. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Beca watching you intently, her lips every so often enclosing over the top of the last bit of cigarette she has left to smoke.

"She's wild, Beca," Luke-you think- compliments and finally, the horrid taste of lighter fluid is off your tastebuds, probably because the alcohol burned them all off on the way down.

Was he complimenting you on the fact that you almost snapped his ulna in two, the fact that you're a-not too brag- _cute_ girl who is hanging out at a biker bar with a bunch of tattooed, Metallica rock, motorcycle junkies, or the fact that you just down a harsh shot of tequila like a glass of water.

You, personally, have no idea, but either way, Beca's nodding her head at Luke, agreeing to one of the three possibilities, perhaps _all_ three.

You look at her; she's still looking at you and it's when your eyes meet two stormy blues that instantly your body feels on fire. "Yeah she is," Beca breathes, her eyes still boring into your soul like two hot plates.

"She's cute, too, just like you said," Luke adds, smile crooked and charming, but honestly, you forgot he was even in the room with you as it felt like it was only you and Beca left alone in this world-bar, to be specific.

Until the words catch up to your brain and your heart starts fluttering uncontrollably to the point of flying straight out of your chest at the idea of Beca, behind the scenes, calling you ' _cute_.'

 _Someone pinch me, I might be dreaming._

"Yeah yeah, whatever." Beca rolls her eyes at Luke's teasing squints to his eyes and playful smirk directed at only her, being called out like that something she'd rather avoid.

While you can, you soak in the warm feeling that this notorious badass, super closed off _hotty_ totally calls you cute behind your back and you _love_ every second of it. Looks like you aren't the only one experiencing a handful of confusing attraction towards someone.

Plus, that's total confirmation that these two aren't dating, which is the greatest news you've ever interpreted.

"Luke and I grew up around the same area, he was the stuck up, British snob who had a mean left hook and could shoot a crossbow like a fuckin' assassin," Beca gives a little more background knowledge about her relationship with Luke while the boy refills her empty glass with some more ice cubes and Whiskey.

"Crossbow?" you ask curiously, the weapon sounding vaguely familiar and incredibly intense. "The bow and arrow thing that's kinda like a gun?" Now it's coming to you; your dad always claimed how incredibly hard they were to shoot and the strength needed for them to load was unbelievable.

Weird how your father's little knowledge about weapons turned out to be useful in the future for you, even when you believed they were all pointless.

"Yep," Beca confirms, taking a smaller sip of her drink. "Seen this guy blow off plenty of heads from at least five hundred yards away, maybe even further."

" _Jesus_ ," you mutter under your breath, gulping at the level of skill this guy hunts at. All Beca's praising; it doesn't even phase him, either, which makes it ten times more scary to be around such a dangerous man with a bow.

"Oh it's nothing, mate," Luke shakes his head timid at the boost to his ego from _Beca_ , especially. The guy seems as sweet as sugar and not only because he called you cute (still and will never **not** be over it). Crazy how something so genuinely nice could be such a force to reckon with. It gives you a little more hope, in a way. "This girl," He points accusingly over to Beca. " _This girl_ is the real deal. Have you seen her with a gun?"

"Yes," you answer breathlessly, keeping out the part where you thought it was freaking hot and for lack of a better explanation, _a panty disintegrator,_ for yourself only.

"That's just _rookie_ play for her. See Beca with a set of blades and bet your heart won't stop," Luke declares and the memory of Beca flipping around her butterfly knife so expertly comes to mind, and just that simple thought tears you to shreds. "This little one is _thee_ witch hunter, just like her mother."

Okay, now that you've gotten over the initial shock of being in this creepy environment the bar has to offer, there's a ton of questions left unanswered on your plate, especially the comment about Beca's mom, whom you've have yet to hear anything about.

"Are you going to help us? With the whole witch nest thing happening at my sorority?" you ask genuinely curious, the alcohol easing down your nerves to allow you to find a more comfortable position in the bar. Having Luke on the team would be a great asset, especially with the power of Gail and Kommissar combined like Beca said.

"Only on one condition," Luke hints towards some sort of offer or trade, both equally unsettling, but you patiently wait for what he's about to lay on you, not shooting down either just yet. "You see that over there?" You follow his finger pointed over your shoulder to a rusty, beat up juke box and nod your head when your eyes land on the machine. "Becky here says you got a killer voice and I, for one, love some old school Joan Jett."

Eyes now the size of saucers at the request, you switch your gaze back to Beca who can only shrug innocently and not stand up for you, powerless under such a want from her friend. She mutters something under her breath along the lines of you being unfamiliar with the artist, dogging your knowledge on music and not being ' _cultured_ ,' which lights off a fire inside your stomach.

From somewhere underneath the bar's tabletop, Luke pulls out a black microphone for show, waving it in the air, twirling the instrument around his fingers like he's _daring_ you to take it right from his hands.

You contemplate it for a second, the thought of exposing yourself more than what you've already done by just your appearance sounding like not the brightest idea in the books, but now that you've hung out with Beca, for a taste of the wildlife, you enjoy taking risks.

Living life on the edge.

"Come on, Red," Beca baits mischievously. "Live a little," and dares you, repeating her words from earlier today that she used to get you to ditch class and take an unknowingly trip to the new territory, countryside of Atlanta and hit up the most run down bar in town.

You throw a look of determination at Beca, huffing a ' _be prepared to eat your words_ ' before stealing the microphone from Luke's hands, a little more aggressive than planned.

Standing up from the stool and straightening out your sundress, you walk your way to the juke box, heeled wedges clicking over the wooden tiles of the bar and you feel a dozen eyes boring into the back of your head the entire walk to the juke box, watching you like their prey. Majorly uncomfortable under the attention, you hurry up and scroll through the albums in the jukebox; it's a lot harder to find what you're looking for due to the _prehistoric_ age of the machine and the panic buzzing under your skin with all the boring eyes on your frame.

This whole bar is grossly dirty and you wouldn't be too surprised if they had a few dead bodies rotting in the back. Again, you shouldn't be here. Instead, you should be at a clean, civilized, fancy mall drinking smoothies and trying on expensive dresses and cute stuff at Victoria's Secret where they most likely have a deal on some merchandise; _that's_ more your style.

Really, you wish you had a bottle of hand sanitizer to rid of all the dust and cobwebs collecting on the dials while your fingers flick through the albums and would prefer today's modern technology because it's easier to navigate, to say the least.

Eventually landing on the 'J's,' you find the artist you are looking for, pick out from a handful of songs you know the lyrics best to and dig a quarter out from your purse. With the money in and the song cued, the opening chords of the song blare through the speakers hung around the bar, signaling that it's almost your time to shine and gains you quite the audience from the few people around the bar.

Driven by pure adrenaline and your own pride, it is more than terrifying being the center of attention towards a bunch of strangers. Back at Barden when the Bellas would do karaoke nights against all the other frats and sororities, it was basically the same thing- except, the people you sung to didn't have grey, Santa beards, barbed wire tattoos, chains and missing teeth, which made it less frightening.

Being educated at a young age by your parents with music from AC/DC, Guns n' Roses, Aerosmith and all those other famous hair hands, Joan Jett wasn't something you were unfamiliar with. "I Hate Myself For Loving You," is the winner you picked from the collection; lyrics come naturally to you and you start of soft and shy with the song, your usual high level of confidence still being eaten alive by all the nerves.

The song choice, and Joan's deep, raspy voice compared to your sweet, high pitched, soprano voice didn't mix all that well. It's a little rocky at first, your voice is shaky and uneven, but you make it work, and it seems to be a crowd's favorite once you've gathered up the courage to get bold with your movements-that or the old men are eating away your clothes, like they've never seen a college girl before, which sounds like a better reason for why they're so enthralled by the performance.

As the song continues and you're belting the lyrics, adding your own _Chloe Beale_ signature dance moves, occasionally singing to the old man here, the toothless old man at the pool tables there, and to Luke from the distance who is lip syncing along with the song, using an empty Jack Daniels bottle as a microphone to almost make you crack laugh, but they aren't who you're mostly focused on.

Beca is the next target you lock eyes on, drawing you in like a magnet and she is sitting down back at the bar where you left her, watching you like you're the only person in the room and her stare from even the distance _slams_ you like a jackhammer to the abdomen.

You bob your head to the beat, curving up a smirk to reflect hers, maybe even doubling the size, and she rolls her eyes at your thrown wink, shaking your head at your sudden confidence while serenading her, but not daring to look anywhere else around the bar.

And it's the way- _how_ Beca's eyes are set on your every move, bleeding with admiration that turns all the outside noise around you into a muffled mess, like you're permanently stuck in a tunnel underwater while being light headed.

Needless to say because you've already voiced how you feel about the girl _many_ times, but Beca is a wild card in a game of Uno.

So rare, and so irresistible.

She makes you wanna let your hair down and do all these impossibly crazy things that you've never thought about doing, not having a care for the consequences. She's a truth or dare game; a rebellious, dangerous game that relies on your fate in the hands of someone else.

To everyone else, including herself, she's bad news; a girl that you especially should stay away from, but no matter how hard you could try, staying away feels almost _painful_.

The music to the song ends, being replaced by wolf calls and claps from the chainsmokers around the bar. Luke has his fingers under his tongue, creating a piercing whistle to ring through the bar and makes you feel a whole lot more embarrassed by your little performance. You give your sheepish waves and smiles, a curtsy is even thrown in the mix and your eyes find the ground beneath your feet highly fascinating all of a sudden.

When you do lift your eyes, Beca is the only person in the bar not clapping, but there's a hidden look in her eyes that is entirely different from everyone else's in the area, and a look like that turns your leg muscles to jelly and your kneecaps threaten to buckle. One look; that's all it takes to transform you into a big pile of uneasy nerves.

Slowly, you move your feet along the path to get back to the bar; Beca's eyes are on you the whole way there and feeling like fire the closer you get to her, hotter and hotter every step. Internally swooning when making it back, you set the microphone on the table in front of Luke, your attention not breaking off Beca's.

"Gotta say, Ginge. Becky was right. You got a lovely voice," Luke's talking is background noise and you barely hear it over your fluttering heart at the way Beca is _still_ looking at you.

And you barely hear him ask what you do with a voice like that because, _dammit_ , Beca's eyes are so dark, and so beautiful and so _freaking_ distracting that it's preventing you from paying attention anywhere else.

Shaking your head out of your hourly, Beca admiration, you focus back towards Luke, who is pouring you another shot of tequila, reading your mind like the expert bartender he is because Lord knows you need fifteen of those shots. You swallow down the alcohol like you did the just first one, the burning flavor becoming a strong taste that you're already getting use to.

Beca's still watching you intently; you're trying not to focus on that part too much, because, as you know, Beca and her physical form does _unimaginable_ things to you and your sanity.

Returning back to Luke's previous question, "I often do karaoke with my sisters at a local bar on campus."

"The Bellas, right?" You nod your head to confirm, assuming that Beca has already filled him in on most of the current issue. "Home of the hottest girls on campus at Barden University, but home of the largest witch nest Beca and I have ever taken down."

You side glance at Beca to see if this information is correct, and when she nods back, you only gulp nervously, the invisible beads of sweat already forming at your hairline.

"How many girls do you have as of now?"

"Twenty two; six seniors, including myself, nine juniors, three sophomores, and four freshman, as of now," you list off, switching into head sister, formal mode as a reflex. "After the rush, the Bellas could grow up to two hundred living around campus, whether it's the apartments we rent out, the few small houses on our sorority lane or the dorms. Only fifty make it into the house, which range on seniority, or if the girl is a favorite, let's be honest, " you add at the fact that Emily and Stacie have already moved in and since Aubrey has found an immediate interest in one of those tall drinks of water while you found Emily the cutest bean in the bunch, they bagged themselves a room in the house before any other freshman.

Luke isn't too surprised by the numbers, more like he expected the answer to be something ridiculously high. Fifty girls in the house is enough, adding another hundred or so, especially this year with all the talk going around campus and pretty much the Bellas make up a _decent_ chunk of Barden's student population.

You might hate your new house mothers with all your guts and would like nothing but to burn them into the ground, but you do have to admit they picked the _best_ place in the country to start a mega, witch cult to take over the world.

Plus, starting a nest at a _college sorority_ house, that shit is pretty much genius.

"Yep, you two definitely need all the help you can get. Wouldn't want Gail and Kommissar eating your limbs like corn on the cob, now would we?" Luke laughs at his joke; you have a heat flash or something because _nothing_ about what he just said was funny in any way and actually is making you reconsider even messing with these two women. "And since we are on the topic, what are the odds of you hooking me up with one of your sisters, Ginge?" He winks at you for extra effect.

"Fuck off," Beca scoffs, shaking her head unamused while you're still in shock about the whole horrid, corn on the cob visual that involves your flesh and bones; you shiver just at the image. "We are going to play pool," she announces curtly, irritated scowl battling with Luke's wide, grinning smile that splits his face in half.

You frown at Beca when she moves away from the bar and heads to an open pool table without _actually_ letting you know where she is going. Luke catches your elbow just as you're about to follow Beca like a lost puppy dog, scared that if separated, you might end up getting kidnapped by someone in this bar.

Looking down at the empty shot glass being filled back up to the rim with the same alcohol you've been drinking like water this afternoon, you smile appreciatively at the bartender because it seems to you that he understands everything that you're going through.

"Not so hard on the eyes, _aye_?" He nods over to Beca in the distance where she is plucking out the right pool stick, sliding over the newly poured shot across the tabletop, her jeans hugging her legs just right and her hair radiating majestically in the environment. He also pours one for himself and raises it up to your eye level.

" _That_ would be an understatement," you sigh heavy and loud, picking up the shot to clink with his, swallowing the shot roughly before placing it back on the sticky surface.

At least someone else gets what Beca's whole presence does to your sanity. Seriously, how can someone be this moody, temperamental, secretive and sarcastic, yet so incredibly sexy and irresistible _all_ at the same time? What's even worse is that she's so emotionally detached and afraid, for some reason she won't talk to you about, that she won't even give you a chance to explore these mutual ( _strange_ ) feelings you two obviously have for each other.

That's the hardest part for you, being around someone you can't have.

"Give her some time," Luke tells you with a small, reassuring smile as he takes the empty shot glasses and replaces the shots with two, unopened beers. "Trust me, good will come out of the wait, especially with Beca." And he leaves you at the bar speechless, like a riddle, fortune cookie left opened ended for you to ponder about with two untouched beers sitting in front of you.

You don't think about it too much. If you were to spend a good amount of time solving it, chances are your brain would end up short circuiting from how hard your are thinking and that is something that just can't happen right now, because Beca is across the bar, throwing you a challenging look at the pool table she is leaned up against and you move on autopilot with the beers to be close to the freshman again, even though you _never_ played pool, let alone _touched_ a pool stick.

"Ready to get your ass kicked, Red?" Beca asks smugly when you arrive at the table and she offers you a pool stick; one that you hold similar to how you did with a gun, unsure how to even use the object correctly.

She eyes the beer in your hand, that you forgot you were even holding and you trade it for the pool stick. As if she couldn't get more hot, she smoothly cracks open the cap on the beer with the side of the table before doing the same to yours, apparently, even though you've never been a 'beer' type of gal. Sugary, sweet drinks are more your thing.

Handing you the opened beer, she raises it up, tipping forward the beer appreciatively before gulping a good amount down.

"That was hot," you spill uncontrollably since it seems like your hormones overrides your filter to keep your thoughts away from your mouth.

Beca only smirks above the bottle when she takes another drink and you don't even try to cover up what you just said. You do the same, but the temptation to gag is stronger than normal, but you're able to keep down the liquid. Hopefully, the taste is something that will grow on you and you'll leave the bar without throwing up.

For now, you'll nurse the drink, hoping it will go unnoticed.

"You break," she demands, picking up a blue square thing and rubbing it on the end of her stick and sets down her beer.

What she's referring to is beyond you, so you just stand there awkwardly, stick in hand as you rock back in forth on your feet, waiting until Beca explains what she means by ' _breaking_.'

She sees your confusion, pinching the bridge of her nose; a movement she performs almost as much as her infamous _eye roll._ "You, take that," she points down at the stick your holding; you nod your head at the instructions. Easy enough. "Hit _that."_ Another nod when she's points at the white ball on the table. "Into all _those_." She finishes dumbing down what 'breaking' means, apparently, with her finger pointed to the pyramid of stacked balls at the other end.

And, okay, that doesn't seem _too_ complicated.

So, you ready yourself to hit the ball into the other ones, just like Beca told you to do so. Your stance is awkward and you don't really know which hand is suppose to hold _where_ on the pool stick. Finding a somewhat decent position, you line the stick up as best as you're capable of, just before pulling the stick back to connect with the white ball.

However, instead of hitting the ball with full force-like you're suppose to do so- sending it directly into the others to break apart the stack, the end of your stick completely misses the middle and only a fraction of it comes in contact, skimming the top to send the ball a total of a few centimeters away from where it started.

Beca smiles with cruel amusement to you missing the cue ball and you feel a new level of embarrassed because sucking at things isn't familiar territory for you. Usually you're good at most things that you do; dancing, singing, writing, making freaking _pottery,_ for crying out loud, but this whole pool game is foreign to you, and it sucks because how in the world are you suppose to impress your crush when you can't even break the stack?

But all that doesn't seem to matter anymore when Beca walks up behind you, dropping her stick to rest against the side of the table and replaces her hands to grip softly at your waist from behind.

And, okay, _wow_.

Never mind about being sucky at something if _this_ is what you're rewarded with.

You wonder if telling her that kissing isn't your strong suit, she'll help you out in that category, as well.

Beca is close to your ear with her instructions, her voice a bone chilling, knee chattering type of deep as she teaches you the proper technique to shoot a pool stick, but it doesn't matter because, _of course_ , your whole respiratory system decides that now is the best time to malfunction, and you might face plant down into this unsanitary floor with _where_ and _how_ Beca's hands are gripping at your waist.

It's a long, drawled out class Beca's teaching, her breath smelling faintly like the Bud Light beer she drank earlier, mixed with an ashy stench of cigarette smoke and it should churn your stomach. It _does_ churn your stomach; your insides twisting into knots and _those_ knots twisting into _more_ knots, but it's churning in the most _pleasing_ ways, like you never want Beca to leave your bubble and you could die happy smelling her beer breath.

Unfortunately, she does leave, and you're left with a chill from where the front of her warmth was pressed against your back, but she moves besides you at the pool table, giving you a visual to match with that mesmerizing voice, similar to the tone she had when teaching you to shoot and her eyes and face and body and everything else that makes up such a glorious creation makes up for the lack of physical contact you earlier enjoyed so much.

"Think you got it?" Beca asks, crooked smile on display and she fidgets with the blue eraser thing at the end of her pool stick.

You know if you open your mouth, you'll morph into a shuddering mess and will probably end up fainting, so you opt to nodding, steadying your pool stick to line up with the cue ball in a comfortable stance, just like Beca taught you, determined to break the pyramid of balls.

Focused hard on the task at hand, you completely miss the random guy walking directly behind you, leaving a firm smack to your rear before he tries to shamelessly sneak away, like he didn't just cause you to shriek at the unwanted action, feeling violated and sexually harassed by toothless _grandpa_ with an eye patch.

The sting is still radiating on your right cheek and you feel nauseous at the realization of what just happened. Being in the Bellas, you're not a stranger when receiving cat calls, the uncomfortable, lingering eyes from males that are locked on your body a lot longer than you feel comfortable with and the foul comments dropped by them that you happened to overhear.

But never have you been _physically_ sexually harassed and usually would be all against any form of violence, but with this, you can't just stand there and do _nothing_ about it.

You whip yourself around to catch the culprit at the other end of the pool table, looking a gross, _rape-y_ type of sinister and you've never felt the urge to punch someone's whole set of teeth out as much as you do right this instant. About ready to blow the roof off this bar with rage, Beca beats you to it.

 _Literally_.

Like, she took her pool stick, hit the old guy in the back of the head, snapping the wood in half by the force of the hit and replacing the stick with the decently sized pocket knife she kept in her jacket pocket, shoving the blade directly above the man's pulse where her other arm is pressed up against the base of his throat, keeping his place firmly on the pool table.

The bar is deathly silent, the music even goes mute and everyone around the scene, as a reflex, either jumps back with fear, or sprints out the nearest exit with fear. You, on the other hand are feeling the exact _opposite_ of fear when looking at Beca, such a small girl pin down a guy two times her size with a venomous glint in both her eyes and looking absolutely _terrifying_.

"Now is that anyway to treat a lady, Fat Gandalf?" Beca hisses, white foam spitting out onto the man's face that's wincing in pain from either the blade slicing his neck, Beca's forearm from pressing so hard on his Adam's apple, about ready to pop the thing, or simply both.

You close a hand over your mouth to hide your snickers at the nickname. Beca's so witty and clever with her insults and it's about time she becomes your knight and shining armor.

"I don't want you touching her like that ever again, you hear me?"

And the whole possessive, sexy tone Beca has going on is very distracting and it almost makes you forget what even happened in the first place to create such a dramatic scene in the middle of the bar, but then, _oh yeah_ , you remember that she's finally coming to your rescue- though you wished it happened sooner to avoid getting your ass unwillingly smacked in public.

Beca waits for the man to say something, but he physically _can't_ , like, at all, because Beca's forearm is crushing his vocals cords, windpipe and any other important anatomy piece, and you can see him literally choking on his own saliva to catch some air, red in the face and his eyeballs seconds away from bulging out from his skull. The least he can do is faintly nod his head, which is good enough for Beca as she retracts her knife back into her pocket and her arm eases up from where it's placed on the guy's throat.

Expecting more of a punishment and taking the situation back into your own hands, you watch the guy stumble up from where he was bent inhumanly like a taco against the pool table, gripping at his throat and wheezing for air. Seeing your chance, you strut your way to the end of the table and without any warnings whatsoever your take your wooden wedges and drive them up into his junk, sending his upper body flying forward from the pain and use one of your hands to deck him in the nose.

"Fuck you, Perv!" Are your last words before you load up a swing, aimed directly at his nose, _again_.

Once your knuckles make contact with his face, a burning pain spreads along the rest of your fingers, then hand, and then shoots up your entire right arm, all the way to your elbow and you're not a doctor by any means, but you're half concerned that you might've broken your hand.

"Luke, get this piece of shit out of here!" Beca shoots her nasty order to Luke who is already on his way to throw the guy who is now bleeding from his nose and cupping his junk from the excruciating pain.

"Got it, Becky. Don't want breaking anymore of pool sticks."

You watch Luke yank the guy by the arm and place an aggressive hold to the back of his neck to push him towards the exit, but the pain in your hand is now throbbing and you _instantly_ regret punching the guy at all because you might need to amputate the thing.

Beca takes your hand in hers when the bar returns back to normal and she starts to cautiously massage the reddened area, careful not to rub too hard. "Okay, _fireball_. That was super bad ass," she says all of a sudden, but keeps her eyes faced down on your hand that is already starting to feel better by the gentle touches, though the outer appearance looks quite the opposite. "I always got that vibe from you that you could seriously fuck someone up if necessary."

Shrugging your shoulders nonchalant, "what can I say? I'm a Beverly Hills, red headed Barbie doll that's a force to reckon with," you wheeze a joke through a laugh before it shifts to a sharp hiss when Beca runs her fingers over a tender spot on your knuckles that seem to already be bruising.

Someone remind you to never punch someone in the face _ever_ again without proper technique; it's _so_ not worth it.

"I can see that," Beca laughs as well; a dark and gut wrenching laugh that makes your knees buckle and your insides coil at her blinding set of teeth. "Think you need to put a quarter in the swear jar, though. Don't you have like an oath or some Bellas' _bullshit_ about cursing?"

You raise up an eyebrow at how ridiculous that just sounded. The Bellas were a sorority, not catholic school nuns. "Okay, _mom_. I may not be dropping 'f' bombs on the daily like _someone_ I know," you emphasize on the 'someone,' not that it took a rocket scientist to figure out who you were referring to when taking a look at Beca's minutely, _colorful_ vocabulary. "And I'm no saint. I just choose to use _other_ words to express my emotions." It's true. Every once in awhile you'll surprise everyone, even yourself, and slip out some vulgarity, but it's not very often.

You blame it on the fact that you're happy all the time, seeing no point in using such powerful sayings and usually curse words are dropped in correlation with anger. You can't help it; it's in your nature to be one big ball of sunshine.

"Don't worry, it was hot," Beca shrugs casually as she drops this compliment and, _of course_ , you worry, but worry entirely of a different reason because, for the first time ever, she has called you **hot**.

Well, not you, _specifically_.

But definitely an action you've done, which automatically corresponds to you, so whatever.

"That's the first guy I've ever punched," you gush, the realization finally hitting you and makes you feel surprisingly giddy about it, which is weird because you're usually anti-violence like, _all the time._

"I would've never guessed," Beca laughs again, her words sarcastic and you're doing an amazing job making the girl smile, so kudos for you. She continues massaging your hand; there's not a lot she can do and you definitely need to put some ice on the obvious swelling, but for now, her soft touch is something you want to savor. "First the natural ability to shoot and now a mean right hook? A girl like you is hard to find."

Funny.

You'd say the exact same thing about her.

"I've never been...like _this_ before. Physical violence, yelling and even confrontation scared the bejesus out of me. But I don't know. Hanging out with you is different-I _feel_ different hanging out with you, like I constantly feel the urge to back talk teachers, break all the rules and _apparently_ punch guys."

"Well now that makes me feel like a bad influence, Red."

"It _shouldn't_ ," you counter quickly. "If anything you helped me grow as a person, in a way. A person I never thought I had the capability of being. Ever since I've met you, I've done _unimaginable_ things. Shoot a gun, punch a guy, sing karaoke at a creepy rock bar and the biggest one of them all, fight off _witches_. Hanging out with you...I don't know… I can finally be myself that I was too scared of becoming before, I guess-and don't you _dare_ say how cheesy that is, because I'm finding it incredibly hard to muster up the right words to tell you how I'm feeling!"

Beca raises her hands up surrendering and you instantly miss the warmth of her hands blanketing over yours. She urges you to continue on, but you're finding it hard to scramble up the right words because her hands are back on yours and she's giving you this look like you're about to give her the code to win a million dollars.

"You bring out the beast in me," you finally conclude, voice basically an earthquake. And it's not that this is a bad thing, _per se_. Actually, it's quite far from it.

Beca has given you a new outlook on life.

She's given you a _new_ life.

Verbally, Beca doesn't reply, but as you stare deep into those cloudy greys mixed with blue and mirror that crooked smile of hers, the words are all there, visible for you to read and suddenly, you feel revived again.

Letting go of your hand that surprisingly feels ten times better than it did before when you were certain that you broke all your knuckles in one hit, Beca scouts her pool stick, picks it up, along with her half drunken beer and catches Luke, now pervy, old guy free. "Luke, let me get some ice!" she hollers over to where the bartender is. "You still good to play? I'd say I'd take it easy on you, but the show you just put on tells me that you can handle your own."

A new wave of determination takes over your limbs at Beca's playful smirk; your competitive nature back and bolder than ever. You were just getting to the good part of the game before you were assaulted and all. Now, the only difference is that your hand is just _minorly_ not okay and you can already smell the voodoo magic Gail and Kommissar are cooking up once they get a good sight at your hand that will definitely bruise by the time you get back to the Bellas' house.

So really, you shouldn't be playing.

But with this new, bold personality of yours that you've recently just adapted, who the _Hell_ cares?

Grabbing your pool stick and curving your best intimidating grin, "game on."

* * *

"I'm really glad that you're good with a gun because you sure as Hell suck at pool," you joke teasingly, nudging Beca's shoulder with yours as you two stare up at the darkened night sky above the hood on Beca's car.

After revealing your knowledge over the late eighties, early nineties rock genre and set of pipes to 'wow' the bar, you felt bold and on top of the world, which is what made you challenge Beca to a game of pool since apparently, she was going to, quote on quote, " _kick your ass."_

A little pointer here, a little touch to your hip there and soon, you became a pool shooting expert, beating Beca a total of _three_ times before you called mercy on the girl.

Maybe it was beginners luck, or you discovering a brand new secret talent of yours, even with a damaged hand that is so far healing up perfectly, barely even bruising or swollen, which is both good and bad news (because you so wanted a cool story to tell others about how you punched a guy in the face). Either way, you commend yourself on it and take great pride that will carry with you from here on out.

"Pretty sure you hustled me, Red," Beca murmurs under her breath, her 'sore loser' font making an appearance and it brings an explicit amount of joy to fill your body. "It's one thing to gradually get better, but you kicked my ass from the start. I call _bullshit_ on your part."

"I will neither confirm nor deny," you giggle at Beca's head shake to your stubbornness, your pride unable to remain deflated at a reasonable volume because you've _finally_ found something that you're better than Beca at and it's a sort of feeling that you think will never get old.

"Aubrey always told me I'm a fast learner," you bring up casually, the words finally making sense.

Beca looks at you sideways. "You and her are pretty close, huh?"

"Oh totes! She's a sister I've never had. We have made it through some pretty tough times together; being hazed as freshmen which was the _worst_. They made us suck vodka out of maxi pads until they were dry." Beca grimaces at the image; you do too at the skin crawling memory of where your mouth has been. "All the boyfriends and girlfriends breakups, the stress from finals, her puking at a frat party mixer and being _humiliated_. She's my bofa."

Beca cranes one eyebrow up to the sky. "Bofa?" she repeats confused on the term.

"Breath of Fresh Air," you clear up with a megawatt smile, the warm tingly feeling hitting your insides like a tidal wave.

"You miss her, don't you?" Beca asks curiously and you think she already knows the answer, if not by what you just said, definitely by the way your attitude plummeted into the ground, your once bright smile being replaced by a frown.

Was that even a question?

"Of course I miss her. Yeah, I still _technically_ have her with me, but it's not Aubrey, the controlling girl who pukes under pressure and is my one and only best friend. She's some...evil, robot, _witch_ , who has her brain fried and controlled by evil _bitches_ ," you spit, anger lacing the words.

You catch Beca's eyes stretching with the last little light you have left in the sky, whether it is because of the anger tinting your words or the dropped curse word that you can infer she enjoys way more than she should. "Maybe I can change that," is all she replies with before turning her gaze away from you, leaving you to wonder what she means by that.

"You'll… _help_?" you ask shaky, already feeling relieved and you having even heard the answer yet. "With Aubrey? Getting her back to normal?"

Beca doesn't give you an answer, go figure. Instead she stays silent, watching the sky like it's a puzzle and she's trying to solve it, but the little twitch at the corner of her mouth and how the twinkle in her eyes is a clear indicator that maybe, _just maybe_ , she'll help out your friend.

And that's a good enough answer for you to relax a bit, and enjoy the peaceful scenery with great company.

The moon is bright tonight, almost too bright as it sits in the cloud free, night black sky with a visible ring circling the glow perfectly out in the middle of nowhere. There's a soft breeze hitting your skin just right; it's not too cold, not too aggressive. Crickets chirping around the vehicle is pleasant background noise. That and the soft music playing from inside Beca's car where all the windows are rolled down.

In other words, it's a peaceful scenery to end the night on, even though the area where you both are sitting has _zero_ light, as of now, bedsides the moon, not even a house in sight pass the corn fields, and maybe you wish you were able to visibly see Beca and admire her like you're use too.

But her voice makes up for the lack of her physical appearance, as well as the sudden closeness between the two of you on top of the hood.

"Luke is cute," you mention with a giggle, unable to know why you keep giggling, but have no other choice but to blame the shots of tequila and beer from earlier. It may be dark outside and impossible to see anything further than a centimeter away, if even that, but you can sense Beca rolling her eyes. Possibly a snarl of distaste in the mix. "What? You don't think so?"

"Luke is a British asshole," Beca grumbles under her breath, moving her arms to cross above her chest and giving her own opinion. "But I've known him all my life, so I've built up a pretty gnarly calais to tolerate him."

"Have you two ever...you know?" You bounce your head side to side, trying your best to avoid being crass and nosy, but also failing to find the proper words. You see Beca twist her head to look at you, though her face is only a shadow and now the pressure is on. "Dated?" You finally find the word at the back of your throat, itself bringing a foul taste to linger once it's fully out.

The thought of Beca dating anybody _except_ you brings an unpleasant cramp to your heart, regardless if it's borderline psycho.

Beca takes a while to answer and you start to think that maybe you jumped the gun a little too fast on this one, getting greedy with knowing all about the girl since she dropped a few facts about herself earlier today. Also, she's a safe with a lock even with things that are considered icebreakers when meeting someone new. Of course she'd be ten times more closed off with personal questions about her dating history.

"You don't have to tell me," you cover up once the guilt catches up, but also you kinda _need_ to know the answer or else your brain will resort in jumping to conclusions and we all know jumping to conclusions is _never_ a good thing.

And eventually after a growing silence, she does answer. "No we haven't. I haven't really... _dated_ anybody."

"At all?" You're gawking even though Beca can't see it and maybe you should've went about how to respond to this differently, because having a natural talent at reading people, you can feel a wave of embarrassment wash over Beca's body language, which is just as bizarre as it is adorable.

"You really know how to make a girl feel good about herself," Beca is grumbling, her voice now hinting irritation, sarcasm and hearing the tone, you immediately feel like an asshole.

Shaking your head at the mistake and how Beca could've easily taken it the wrong way, "I didn't….I didn't mean it like that," you assure genuinely. "I just, you're really, _really_ freaking hot," you breathe, the word not fully summing up Beca's looks and you honestly don't think anything could.

Beca's shoulder that is pressed up against your body shakes from her chuckles, a nice change in behavior that eases off the tension on you. "So you tell me, daily, I might add and not by just tweeting about it with that emoji with a stream of drool spilling out the corner of its mouth."

Sorry, but can she blame you?

With her perfect bone structure, her flawless chocolate hair that always seems to be shiny and has no fly aways. Her intimidating, yet mesmerizing eyes and all the tattoos, piercings, rings face and… _ **ugh**_!

And she's the one to say you don't give her ego enough boosting. If anything you inflate it, more so than it should be inflated.

And wait.

What did she just say?

You gasp out loud and not because what Beca just announced was false. It was actually a onetime thing where you brain wasn't working well with your thought process and accidentally let a simple tweet go by, something written along the lines of, " _the new freshman at Barden is super tasty,"_ and ending it with the emoji Beca was talking about.

"Are you stalking me?" Beca bounces her head side to side, giving you the answer without actual words. "So, _Ms. I Don't Have a Cellphone_ has social media accounts?"

"I'm a music producer, it's basically required," Beca snorts with a shake to her head. The day you'll remember that Beca is living a double life; one that is a famous music producer life and the other being a witch hunter is the day pigs will fly. "Plus, I'm not stalking, I'm _researching,"_ she corrects matter of factly, as if this sounds better and you don't buy it for one second. "And its research I couldn't disagree with."

You roll your eyes hard at Beca's cocky attitude, but have yet to find a lie. "Unless you never owned a mirror or looked at your reflection, I'd assume you'd figure out that you're extremely attractive."

"Thanks," Beca cheeks a smile, keeping her smug, cocky front on display. "You're not too bad yourself."

"Seriously!" Now you're all around baffled that Beca, as attractive as she is, _hasn't_ dated anybody in her entire life. Plus, she is like, super famous and probably has lines of people waiting to score a date with her, but also, she has a... _different_ personality from anyone else that makes her exciting. How could anyone possibly pass that up? "You're….you're _you_! And you're great and smart and really strong, and your face!" You whip an accusing finger at Beca who shifts back. "Your face is **illegally** attractive."

Beca pauses her chuckles, absentmindedly waving off your pointed finger towards her face. "I'm also a witch hunter who not only kills witches, but blows up their heads. Kinda hard to find someone out there that shares a similar interest."

Still, Beca's the prime definition of the "bad girl" type _heartthrob_ that is always a turn on for girls.

You especially.

"Have you tried dating? Like, at all?"

"No," Beca puts bluntly. "What's the point if they're going to run anyway once they figure out my back story? No one stays once they get a good look at the _real_ me."

It's sad hearing this; you're the type of girl that loves love. Everything about it warms your heart and to hear someone avoid the beauty of love like the plague is heartbreaking. "Well you never know until you at least give them a chance," you say gentle, not wanting to overstep anything and push Beca the wrong way with telling her what to do. Something about her taking orders from anybody but herself seems unlikely and a terrifying scene to witness.

But that's just a hunch.

"Some people _are_ worth the risk," you claim, voice bold. "Worth the fear, pain, trust, love, and comfort. They're out there, you just have to stay patient and find them."

Again, Beca doesn't answer, and this time she never does. You mentally face palm yourself for diving to deep in her personal pool, knowing just how hard it was for Beca to open up but you went ahead and egged it on.

You're already on your way to apologize for your stupid word vomit, but Beca eliminates the last little bit of space separating the two of you, her leg grazes yours and her arm is basically glued on top of yours, and feeling this enjoyable warmth vanishes any apology you had mustering up inside your head.

The gesture isn't anything too big, but to you, having Beca so close without you instigating the closeness and having her do it on her own, it makes it feel like Hell has just frozen over. With a megawatt smile that can't be erased from your mouth, you watch her pull out a small box from her leather jacket pocket before pulling out a cigarette, the orange flame adding its own light to the darkness before the stench makes it to your senses.

"I have a question- and feel free to not answer or even tell me that it's none of my business," you fluff while watching Beca inhale a cloud of smoke before blowing it out. She gives you the green light as she lifts the cigarette back up to her lips, already taking a second hit. "Why do you smoke?"

"It use to be a type of coping for when I was stressed," Beca wheezes out as the smoke fills her lungs, orange and white stick flicking between her fingers. "Now, it's coping for confusion, I guess." She blows out all the smoke, and from where your left side and her right side are molded together, you can feel her body deflate with the exhale. "Why? You going to lecture me on how _poisonous_ to the body it is?"

Quickly, you shake your head and Beca seems truly surprised by the response. "No actually. I use the tanning bed on occasions even though it can give me skin cancer," is the best thing you can come up with that relates in a way to Beca's smoking habit. "Sometimes we do stupid shit that hurts our bodies, but makes us feel good."

"Ain't that right," Beca snorts, taking another inhale.

You watch her do this for a while, entranced by the little sight you can see, until that urge to do bad things jumpstarts your body.

"Can I try?" Never would you have thought that you, Chloe Beale, would be asking to smoke, especially when Aubrey's nagging voice rings in your head, repeating like a broken record about how _bad_ smoking is for your vocal cords. The thought alone isn't the most appealing and if possible, you could already feel your throat burning from the smoke.

But you're _done_ living your life in safe mode.

And immediately after Beca's hesitant eyebrow raise as she skeptically hands you the lit cigarette and once your lips trap over the orange tip and you begin inhaling all the smoke your body can handle (which isn't much) you've never regretted an action more in your twenty two years of living.

It's not a shock that your body completely rejects the smoke the exact moment it came into contact with your throat and causes you to wheeze, hack up a few organs, and cry a little bit, all while Beca watches you intently, amusement hidden in her dark eyes and that damn smirk of hers you swear is brighter than the moon currently. Eyes now watering and quite possibly on the verge of throwing up from how much you're coughing, you hand back the cigarette like dirty laundry and search for the nearest liquid you could find, which happens to be a water that you chug within seconds.

"Thank you for that," Beca says all of a sudden, oblivious to your near death experience that is still happening as you speak.

Once you settle the fire burning in your throat and lungs, you wheeze out a raspy, "what do you mean?" with one hand covering your mouth and the other wiping away your tears.

Yeah, smoking?

Definitely not your style, which you _should've_ known since the last time you smoked weed for the first time at a frat party, you _did_ end up throwing up from the coughing fit that was equally scarring as it was embarrassing. Even hookah was impossible for you to actually _enjoy_.

Needless to say, you apparently have a pretty strong gag reflex.

Hence why you're gay ( _TMI_?).

"Thank you for not judging me like people normally do, hence, why I can't stand being around my father for longer than a couple seconds," Beca admits sincerely before her smirk is gone and her lips are wrapped back around her cigarette.

You don't know much about Beca's dad, except he's a professor at Barden and he's not too fond of whatever danger Beca is putting herself in, which happens to be ' _witch hunting.'_ You chose not to dwell on the missing background information on the guy as you're hoping to avoid anything that could put a damper on such an amazing day and night you've been having with Beca

That's a topic for another night; a night that doesn't result in Beca closing up by witty sarcasm and eye rolls before leaving you behind.

Taking a deep breath to give your lungs a much needed break from what you just put them through, you say, "I'm big on not judging something before I've tried it," in your still raspy voice, hence why you've tried weed.

"Oh really? So now that you've tried it, are you going to judge me?"

You shake your head with a laugh. "No, silly. Yes, smoking might not be for me, personally, but you're an adult. You can do and put whatever you want in _your_ body."

"Thanks for the permission, mom," Beca teases as she ashes her cigarette off the side of her car and you roll your eyes at the familiar sarcasm that you've surprisingly missed so much. "I'm trying to quit," she mumbles, though the cigarette shoots straight back up to her mouth and kinda defeats the purpose of quitting, you think, but you decide to keep all that to yourself. She's had four so far in the last few hours of hanging out together, so it looks like the quitting isn't doing so hot. "I _am_ trying to quit smoking."

And apparently she senses your confusion to make a more stern, proper statement about the issue.

"What's preventing you from quitting?"

"Like I said before, feelings. Confusing, fucked up feelings inside my body that are just…. _fucking_ confusing!" Beca grumbles irritated, taking another hit to calm her nerves and lack of words to express how she is truly feeling.

You chuckle quietly at Beca's frustration; the feelings are quite mutual, perhaps even more confusing. "So these feelings are... _confusing_?" You tease because Beca brought up the description more times than you could count and really you just wanted to be a jackass about it.

Beca scoffs a " _fuck off,_ " and never has an aggressive saying like this warmed your heart like it did just now. Smoothing out the bottom of your dress for no apparent reason since the material was paper thin flat, you continue.

"Because you haven't dated anybody and since we were on the topic, does that mean you haven't done… _it_?" You continue playing at the end of your dress above your crossed legs, voice all of a sudden shy and your eye contact with the girl is long gone.

Beca hears this, however, as she twists her head to get a good look at you, but because it's only getting darker, if at all possible, her expression is unreadable, which didn't matter since your dress and anything out of Beca's line of sight has become the most fascinating thing to glue your eyes to.

" _It_?" Beca echoes wary, mistaken that she maybe misheard and when you nod your head confirming that she didn't, you know you could feel her smirking from the twinkle in her teeth out of the corner of your eye you spot. "Jesus, _fuck_ , you really are a virgin." The smugness radiates off Beca's body, hitting you in all possible directions. There it was again, the unwanted label you try to avoid hearing and talking about at all costs.

"Shut up!" You take your hand and smack the top of Beca's closest knee, masking your offence pretty damn well.

"You know you can say ' _sex,_ ' like, you won't combust to flames if you do," Beca laughs amusedly, the cocky grin on display giving you mixed thoughts on whether or not you want to smack it off, or kiss it off.

"Fine," you huff and puff, crossing your arms to make a statement that you're able to say the word and that Beca is a complete asshole. "If you haven't dated anybody, does that mean you haven't had _sex_ yet?" You hide your triumphing pride when the word slips so easily from your mouth and you even add a little extra emphasis to it.

"You know it _is_ possible to have sex without officially dating somebody, Red," Beca justifies, her smirk still present under the light from the stars and moon and darted straight towards you. "Hell, doesn't even have to be intimate."

Well, that doesn't make you feel good and actually, a wave of nausea hits you full blast at the thought of Beca engaging in such dirty activities with other people, especially if there isn't a connection there and she's just having sex with random people for some 'stress relief.'

 _Jesus_ , you never thought you'd prefer the smoking addiction over this.

"So you…. _sex_...a lot?"

Beca full on belly laughs, causing you to laugh with her because something about the noise is not only the most glorious sound to hear, but also is very contagious. Beca has a great laugh and an amazing smile that goes perfectly with it, you conclude.

"What are you Borat now? A caveman with shitty vocabulary? _Do I sex a lot?"_ Beca teases.

"You're so mean to me," you mumble this through a pout, shoulders slumping with your head into your chest at the mocking. Beca's hand brushes your hand for a split second as she continues laughing before she quickly pulls it away and slides off the hood of her car and jumps down to the ground.

The area where she touched you burns, like you just slammed your knuckles on top of a hot stove and honestly, even though it was just a brief touch, harmless and probably something Beca doesn't even realized she did, you'd do anything in the world just to feel her hand again.

"Why am I not shocked that, again, you won't tell me?" you squint your eyes when Beca flicks her unlit cigarette onto the ground and reaches underneath her leather jacket and towards the back of her jeans, biting your tongue not to comment about how she just littered.

"I mean, if I _were_ a virgin, don't you think Gail and Kommissar would be after me, as well?" Beca hints and that's all the confirmation you're willingly stable enough to hear about this conversation. Okay, maybe that thought never came about, probably because it makes you want to vomit anytime you think of Beca doing _anything_ to _anybody_ besides you.

Next thing that happens is Beca pulling out one of her many guns from her impressive collection and points it directly towards the sky, the moon to be specific, and without any warning, releases the trigger. The crack from the gun is like an explosion through the peaceful silence surrounding you two in the little country spot Beca picked out, giving you a major heart attack from the suddenly boisterous noise and _thank God_ nobody lives close enough to be alarmed by the shot to call the cops or something equally as bad.

"What the Hell are you doing, Beca?!" You hiss, hands still cupping over your ears as a reflex to the noise.

Before you can even open your mouth to drop another question, Beca swiftly takes your hand, pulling you onto the ground to join her and you don't know what causes your legs to give out; sitting for too long, or Beca's touch, which soon shifts to your waist to keep you up right and all in all, you think you might faint.

Or melt.

Both highly possible.

"There's just something exciting about it, shooting at something so big in reality that looks so tiny to us in the sky and trying to get a piece of it," she says, hand still at your hip. "Here," she offers you the gun she recently just shot at literally _nothing_ but the sky. "You try."

Try _what_ , is the main question floating through your head as your fingers curl around the base of the gun, the chill, metal weight against your fingertips a familiar feeling from training.

"Shooting bullets at the moon? How _exciting_ ," you hint sarcasm, but on the inside as you ready your stance up to the blackened sky, the more excited you actually get. "I feel like I've heard about this in a country song."

Beca rolls her eyes, disregarding your comment. "You hit it and I'll take you out on a date."

Your heart stops completely before feeling like it just plummeted down into the pit of your stomach and you rotate your head to look at Beca from behind so inhumanly fast that you might've tweaked every muscle in the area. Beca's grin is glowing under the moon's light; a smile so mischievous, so evil and you have mix feelings about it.

At first, you think it's not fair, because _obviously_ , shooting the moon is impossible. Like really, how high can bullets even go? And how would people even know if they hit it or not with being stuck to the ground on Earth.

But never have you wanted something so bad in your _entire_ life, so you saddle up and aim as best as you can towards that tiny ball of white, determined to hit the bullseye because a date with Beca is worth all the effort, no matter how slim the chance of hitting it may be.

A simple pull to the trigger sends the bullet a long journey aways from where you two are at, the noise of the gun going off the only indicator you've even shot the thing. A pump of adrenaline rushes through your veins, similar to how it always seems to be when shooting a gun.

Your heart races from the sound that's still ringing through your ears. Staring up at the sky with your tongue poking out at the corner of your mouth, "I think I skimmed it," you announce as you try to increase your chances of scoring a date with the rebel, smiling _hard_ when you look at Beca who is all of a sudden a lot closer to you.

 _Way_ closer to you.

"You're so _fucking_ confusing." There it is again, the same word that Beca had repeated so much earlier tonight making another appearance as she growls her words, each syllable and breath coiling your stomach and brushing against the raised hairs on the back of your neck where her mouth happens to be. "You make me... _feel…_ things that I shouldn't."

You retract your brain away from how intimidating and sexy Beca's voice sounds at the same time, trying not to make your shudders evident for her to see. "Well let's just say I, as well, have a few spells up my sleeve, " you breathe this joke, instantly missing Beca's sudden closeness when she retracts back onto the hood of the car, back against the windshield and one leg curled up to her chest. "And do you mean confusing in a _cute_ way?"

"No," Beca shoots that description down faster than you can even curve up a cute smile to win her over. "Confusing in an _infuriating_ way," she grunts while saying this, moving her hands up behind her head to hold it in place and you scrunch your eyebrows so tightly together that the possibility of them becoming permanently stuck runs high. "But you're pretty rad, so don't worry."

"Well that's not reassuring," you snort sarcastically and watch Beca change the music in her car to some old school Def Leppard, "Photograph" playing softly in the background travels you back in the past when your parents would cook breakfast for you and your brothers on weekend mornings.

There's a huge wave of nostalgia you're feeling, being here with Beca, shooting bullets at the moon for no apparent reason other than it's an adrenaline rush to try something so crazy, but not having the fear of getting caught. It's freeing being with Beca, like you've been trapped up in a shell all your life, missing out on all these exciting things, terrified of branching out, but never face to face with them.

You take a look at Beca through the darkness and see that she has her eyes fixated on you, and you think back to what Luke said. About waiting and how something good will come out of it if you just give Beca the time.

And honestly, you swore never to waste your precious little time waiting for someone to realize a good thing when they have it, but as extraordinary as Beca is, you decide right then as you stare back at her, Joe Elliot's distinctive voice filling the air between you two, she's worth the wait.

Whether it's tomorrow, or a year from now.

You're not going anywhere.

* * *

 **Big one, I warned y'all! I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, I wanted a lot of bechloe scenes because yes, their relationship is getting somewhere ( I SWEAR) and it's only a matter of time before Beca gets her head out of her ass ;) Next chapter I already know is going to be my favorite. Bellas' Rush party with a surprise guest, more bechloe fluff and quite possibly a...KISS?! Stick around for next update and find out!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Brace yourselves, lovelies!**

 **Thanks to all the guests leaving reviews and those who I messaged back!**

 **Leave what you think, I promise to respond :)**

 **(I DO NOT OWN PITCH PERFECT, NOR THE SONGS MENTIONED)**

* * *

 **Chapter Nine: Oh Becky, You're So Fine**

As magical of a day and night it truly was, spending all this one on one time with Beca, getting objectified by old biker men, singing karaoke in a run down bar, decking one of those old biker guys in the face and ending the night with long conversations about random crap over soft, oldies rock music playing in the background, the night had to end eventually.

No matter how wonderful it was, taking that it was a Wednesday night and you had lots to do before the Bellas' rush happening in two days.

First on the list, you had a Sociology quiz at 8:00 AM and did you study for the quiz? Absolutely not, because here's the thing.

You _were_ going to study for the quiz this afternoon once you got done with all your classes, but as you all remember, Beca, made an unannounced, yet _pleasant_ visit to Barden before using her good looks and killer smile to lure you out of class, ditch the rest and be the complete _opposite_ of the good pupil you grew up to be.

Then at around midnight after shooting random bullets at the moon, Beca asked if you wanted to go home, knowing that talking on the hood of a car for hours wasn't the most entertaining-though you couldn't think of another place you'd rather be. So, you declined before she could even finish her sentence, the thought of going back to the Bellas' house was unsettling.

Ask you that hours ago at the bar and the answer would've been way different.

Another hour went by, some more insightful conversations about the meaning behind the music, food you pinned on your Pinterest, and useful knowledge about whatever weapon came to Beca's mind and then next thing you knew, you were sneaking into the Bellas' house at three in the morning after Beca dropped you off, fingers, toes, tongue, and eyes all crossed not to wake anybody up as you played stealth through the hallways and literally _prayed_ to all the higher powers that Gail and Kommissar were nowhere in sight.

Luckily, you make it to your room undetected by your sisters and or house mothers while tip toeing through the maze of a house, collapsing onto your bed as you blow out a large exhaled breath of relief and know for a fact that any form of sleep for tonight is non existent.

Same with passing your Sociology quiz tomorrow morning.

Well... _today_ , actually.

You're unsure if the adrenaline is coming from the fear of being caught by one of your house mothers and knew that if they were to catch you coming home so late at night, with the strong stench of cigarettes, beer and burgers off the grill from the bar and a couple bruised knuckles on your right hand that you'd be in for _quite_ the show.

Who knows if it would be a verbal show, or a physical show, where you'd end up as the main course for an all you can eat witch buffet, but you're thanking your lucky star that you didn't have to deal with either.

But also, the adrenaline that has your heart racing a mile a minute and your blood flowing throughout your body like tiny spiders are crawling under your skin could be because you've never snuck into a house before after staying out pass curfew and the realization of it happening tonight makes you feel like you're finally living the life of a rebellious, high school teenager, who breaks all the rules without a care to the world and someone you've _never_ had the chance to be, or experience the things they do.

Oh how mother would be so disappointed in you right now; you breaking curfew to hang out with the troublemaker around town, smoking a puff of Beca's cigarette, drinking booze on top of booze, punching a guy in the face. _Geesh_ , you'd be grounded for eternity if you still lived back home in Tampa, but it's the very thought of being in trouble that is a sudden craving for you.

Being bad is _addicting_ , and you don't really understand why.

You roll over to your stomach on top of your bed, mindlessly kicking off your heels and hear them fall to the floor, but have no idea where. In your hands is a vinyl record Beca gave to you after the topic of you owning a vintage record player in your room back at the Bellas that you got from your dad came about, but you didn't nearly have enough records to be considered the cool ' _hipster_ ' who has an impressive collection of them to flaunt.

Yeah, you have a few of them scattered around your room, all of them ranging from Toni Basil, to Cindy Lauper. You even own a Guns N' Roses record, which didn't completely bring a cringe to Beca's face. Once you revealed this to Beca, she about shot you with her gun, especially once you started belting the lyrics to "Mickey," adding your own dance moves directed only at Beca.

Honestly, you've never seen someone cringe _so hard_ before-and now that you are thinking about it, should you be offended?

Anyways, Beca gave you one of her records she had stashed in the backseat of her car and gave you no other option but to take it, even when you said you couldn't, and she assured you that she has enough records to start her own store back in Los Angeles and would rightfully leave you in the middle of nowhere until you took it.

So, you took it, not wanting to be left stranded ( _again_ ) and you're so glad that you did, because now with all this buzzing energy you have after brushing your teeth, throwing on your pajamas that consist of short, black boy shorts and a Rolling Stones t-shirt, you actually have something to listen to since sleep is an impossible task by this point.

It's also ironic that the shirt you ended up picking out to wear happens to be the band's record Beca had gave you. Like it wasn't some coincidence that she _knew_ you have never actually heard a full song by the Rolling Stones, and admittedly, only wears the shirt because it is extremely comfy and two sizes too big since you stole it from your brother's closet who is, like, six feet tall.

You're also pretty ashamed of yourself that you haven't heard a song of theirs until now, knowing just how big your family is on old school rock and crazy hair bands.

Of course, it might've had to do with the fact that you got caught up in bubble gum pop music at an early age, even went through the pop rock stage and briefly took a trip down the cowgirl boots country music back road.

Similar to Beca, music is something that you give a lot of passion towards, which is one of the reasons why you like to think you two clicked so fast and _how_ you guys could talk on top of the hood of her car for _hours_ without even noticing it had been that long.

You like all music of all genres; Britney Spears, Backstreet boys, Coolio, R. Kelly, Katy Perry, Drake, Justin Bieber and so, _so much_ more. And now, after listening to the entire record at a reasonable volume as you lay on your back in bed, fingers drumming to the beat over your stomach while your feet dance back and forth in sync with them, staring up at your ceiling like it's telling you a life lesson and doing this for God only knows how long, you can honestly add the Rolling Stones to the list of your favorite music.

It's catchy, the lyrics are powerful and all around, the music is soothing in a way, unlike all the dancing music you listen to religiously.

For whatever reason, you feel obligated to tell Beca that you've listened to the entire album without any skipping, and doing this in the duration of under an hour, which is like an all time record for you, and decide to search for your phone around your sheets. You find the girl's contact name and type in a quick message informing her that the deed has been done, as if she brought you back home with homework to do.

 _[Chloe Beale 4:35 AM] I LOVE IT. Seriously, everything about the record is amazing. Start Me up has to be my favorite, or Hang Fire :)_

How early in the morning it really is doesn't fully register to you until the text is sent, otherwise you would've waited for a more _reasonable_ hour to bother the freshman about something _so not_ important and could've definitely waited until at least noon.

The text already reads ' _delivered_ ,' however, so there's nothing you could really do about it besides explore some more in the old school rock genre until you have to get ready for classes and eagerly wait for Beca to text you back since you know the girl is probably asleep.

Because, you know, Apple sucks and _still_ hasn't given the option to 'cancel' messages, as if they want you to do something you'll later regret.

But as you're about to toss you phone back onto its charger since there is no other reason to keep playing on it while everyone _except_ for you is sleeping, like normal people, it vibrates not even a minute later and it should **terrify** you how much contentment and giddiness a simple text can bring once you read the name responsible for sending the message and think, " _of course a girl like Beca wouldn't be sleeping right now because, duh, badasses don't sleep."_

 **[Beca Mitchell 4:35 AM]: I think my favorite has to be Sympathy For the Devil, I mean, Jagger's delivery is tremendous and the lyrics behind the catchy beat is powerful. I know it's not on the record I gave you, but it's a good one. Shows that all we do is blame the devil for everything bad that happens in life when in reality, it's us who are rotting the world.**

You think this is the most words Beca has _ever_ texted you and is definitely the most thought you have ever seen her put into a single message, but it's warming to see the building of Beca starting to open up and have conversations that last more than a few seconds, which usually end in a sarcastic retort, or an eye roll. Not only is hearing Beca talk so passionately about music interesting, but also it's extremely attractive.

A lot like everything else she does unintentionally, like simply _breathe_ that makes your insides turn to absolute goo.

 _[Chloe Beale 4:36 AM]: I'm surprised you're up this late. Isn't it past someone's bedtime?_

 **[Beca Mitchell 4:38 AM]: I could say the same about you.**

 _[Chloe Beale 4:39 AM]: Couldn't sleep. Too juiced up on adrenaline, or the amount of alcohol you gave me_

 **[Beca Mitchell 4:42 AM]: No way, that was all you, especially the fireball shot you insisted for us to have. And same. It's kind of hard to sleep when I have someone constantly running through my mind twenty four seven**

Okay, _whoa_ , this is news-and not the good kind of news.

Who the Hell was Beca referring to and why the Hell does she all of a sudden have the emotional capability to have feelings a for someone who _isn't_ you? Before you can even respond to the message, probably drop a subtle and not a _crazy jealous_ way of asking who this lucky someone may be, Beca sends in another text.

 **[Beca Mitchell 4:42 AM]: So a little birdy told me that you are "Sooo in LOVVEE" with The Roast's seasonal, pumpkin spice latte that you can't EVEN? Is that true?**

 _[Chloe Beale 4:42 AM]: That little birdy forgot to tell you there was multiple heart eye emojis ;)_

 _[Chloe Beale 4:43 AM]: You stalking me again, Ms. Mitchell? Maybe I should make my Twitter private…_

 **[Beca Mitchell 4:44 AM]: I told you it's not stalking, but simply for research**

 _[Chloe Beale 4:45 AM]: Either way, still creepy ;)_

 **[Beca Mitchell 4:47 AM]: So is living in a witch nest with a bunch of witches roaming around, ready to kill you at any second, but yet you still live there**

You laugh out loud reading the response you get from Beca; girl had a very valid point.

 _[Chloe Beale 4:46 AM]: Kay, touche ;)_

 **[Beca Mitchell 4:50 AM]: What does your morning look like?**

 _[Chloe Beale 4:51 AM]: Besides failing my sociology quiz, no thanks to you, nothing until 1:00-and don't you DARE think about kidnapping me again! I'd actually like to graduate on time this year lol_

 **[Beca Mitchell 4:52 AM]: What if I kidnap you for some coffee after your first class?**

Reading this message, unlike all the other ones, you are _positive_ your heart and entire respiratory system stops functioning correctly and you're at a lost of words with what to reply with next.

This is a dream come true since the very moment you laid eyes on Beca, and immediately felt some strange type of attraction towards the girl that still to this day couldn't really pinpoint.

Your initial reflex is to scream like a giddy, love struck school girl who has just been asked out by their lifetime crush, but stop yourself before you can and settle for squealing into one of your pillows instead, controlling the volume in your room not to bring any suspicion. All you've wanted was a date with the rebellious, badass of Barden (at least to get some _goddamn_ coffee) and now it's _finally_ coming true.

 _Holy guacamole_ , _someone pinch me I might be dreaming._

Just kidding, abort.

Even if you were dreaming, you never want to wake up from this moment if it meant having a fantasy date with the one and only badass who roams Barden.

 _[Chloe Beale 4:55 AM] Eh, I don't know. Schedule is kind of packed_

Playing hard to get?

Brilliant. Hopefully it doesn't bite you in the ass.

Maybe you should text her back saying all of your plans cleared up...

 **[Beca Mitchell 4:56 AM]: Oh is it now?**

 _[Chloe Beale 4:57 AM]: Yep! Never know when Tom will want to hang out and it was you who said to blend in…_

 **[Beca Mitchell 4:58 AM]: No, fuck that. If that's the case, I'm taking you out for coffee and giving you a ride to school**

Another squeal into your pillow.

Thankfully you kept it close by because something was there that told you-you would need it again soon.

 _[Chloe Beale 5:00 AM]: I mean… I guess I could squeeze you in_

The text makes it look like you're calm about receiving the invitation from Beca, a girl you've been obsessed with and pinning over from the very start, but in reality, you're so far from chill that even if you were dunked in a bathtub filled with ice, you'd come out _molten_ hot. There's no way you would have not reacted the way you currently are even if you tried your hardest.

You have waited for this moment for what felt like a lifetime and wanted it more than _anything_ in your life.

Go ahead and call you crazy; it's just coffee and _technically_ not even considered a date, but that doesn't stop you from believing that it is, which brings about the whole tsunami wave of elation that takes over your body and causes you to make weird noises into your pillow and jump up and down on your bed like a lovesick teenager high on ecstasy.

It's happening.

It's finally happening.

What do you wear? How should you do your hair?

 _Oh my goodness… what perfume do I wear?!_

 **[Beca Mitchell 5:02 AM]: I'm sure I'll be worth your time.**

You swoon and swoon _hard._

You won't even try and convince everyone that you didn't, because Beca, whether she knows it or not (you're sure she does because you make it pretty obvious) has this crazy effect on your sanity like a simple smirk of hers controls you like a puppet.

 **[Beca Mitchell 5:02 AM]: Pick you up at 7:30**

 _[Chloe Beale 5:03 AM]: I'll be waiting_

You cooly reply before throwing your phone mindlessly onto your bed sheets and teleport over to your closet to find something to wear. You scan your collection of summer dresses and heels, but for the first time in a long time, the choices don't appeal to you like they used to.

Instead, when you dig pass all the colorful, signature _Chloe Beale_ costumes you've been wearing since freshman year of high school, you hit a dark spot in your closet, and your eyes stretch with excitement when you know _exactly_ what to wear tomorrow for the impromptu coffee date.

Well, _today_ , technically.

* * *

Attention is drawn to you like a magnet the first step you take down the stairs of the Bellas' house where everyone is interacting until your presence is heard by the clicks to your heels against the wooden stairs and eyes all around the room stick to you like glue, frozen guppies gawk and _definitely_ judge your current appearance in the least subtle way.

You don't blame them for staring once your outfit is fully on display for all your sisters to gawk at. Compared to everyone else's wardrobe choices for today's classes, which are, that's right, _slutty,_ yours sticks out like a sore thumb in the middle of the room; a very leathery and **black** sore thumb surrounded by bright colors, stripper heels and short dresses.

You walk through the paused conversations and blank stares as if you don't notice anything absurd about why you changed in appearance has drawn quite the attention. How you look right now, yeah, this is very intentional, but your sisters are looking at you like you might be deathly ill or something.

"What... _are you wearing_?" Aubrey is the voice out of the group that breaks through the thick silence surrounding you and your sisters, her voice strained and you think she might actually be close to having an aneurysm the longer she eyes your outfit.

You have no idea what spurred you on to dig deep through your closet, front to back, to find the darkest, sexiest, black, v-cut dress, a black leather jacket to match and a scandalous pair of thigh high boots to seal the bold outfit choice you picked out for today. Perhaps it was the sudden urge to disobey all the rules, do and _wear_ whatever the Hell you want and get a taste of this rebellious life of you making the decisions, no one else.

Or it could've been the fact that after you took a shower and were juggling the possible, everyday wear that consisted of a sundress and a pair of heels, the realization of not only getting picked up by Beca, but also going out to get coffee with the girl came to mind and you wanted to do everything in your willpower to ' _wow_ ' the girl.

Plus, Gail and Kommissar were MIA this morning doing God knows what, probably doing weird witchcraft stuff in preparation for the rush this weekend, so you didn't have to deal with them when your choice of clothes was seen.

"What did you say?" you ask innocent, completely lying about not have heard what your friend said the first time. You flip your loosely curled hair to the side to give your sister a look, feigning confusion like it was your damn duty to do so.

"What are you _wearing_ , Chloe?" Aubrey repeats herself, this time more harsh and she isn't making any eye contact with you. Instead, her focus is drawn to your clothes and the amount of judging she is doing is about as obvious as an elephant in a flock of sheep. "All the..leather and black- _Jesus_ , are you ditching classes to partake in a mosh pit?"

You almost laugh at this, _almost_. Guess being brainwashed into a witch didn't _entirely_ ruin Aubrey's brutal sense of humor she often got creative with.

"Clothes," Inattentive, you answer Aubrey's previous question with a one worded, sarcastic response, not paying any of your sisters attention as you search the living room for your purse. You knew the reveal would've turned some heads, but right now, you rather not be lectured of going against the new " _Bella code_."

You wanted a change, so you made a change.

Plain and simple.

It wasn't rocket science, for crying out loud.

"I see that, but my question is referring to _what_ _kind of_ clothes are you wearing right now?" You aren't looking at Aubrey, but can feel her glare at the back of your head and know she is crossing her arms above her chest in a way that _screams_ unamused. It's her ' _don't mess with me unless you have a deathwish'_ front that you have had the pleasure of experiencing before and usually ended up with you in tears and her red in the face that quickly morphed to a green color from her tendency to puke under stress.

"They're clothes, _my_ clothes, and that's all there is to discuss," you want to say the words don't come out as harsh as they felt leaving your mouth, but saying so would mean that you are lying.

Honest to God, you have no idea what has gotten into you this morning, whether it's because you took one puff of Beca's cigarette, or punched a guy in the face, or shot a gun, but everything you do comes out feisty, like maybe you're sick and tired of being a pushover and taken advantage of so easily.

"I don't think they're very appropriate," is what Aubrey firmly counters back with and you have to bite your tongue not to scoff out loud once hearing this load of horse shit. As of right now, especially Aubrey, who is dressed in shorts that could be considered underwear, the Bellas know absolutely _nothing_ about dressing ' _appropriate_.'

"And what would you know about appropriate?" And apparently not only have you became rather _risky_ with your dress code, you've also became _filterless_ , saying whatever the Hell it is that should've been kept to yourself where you'd end up venting _alone_ in your room.

Aubrey is taken back by your bark in tone, just like everyone else in the room, and unlike before when the two of you have had your arguments, a little _agree to disagree_ bickering, you can rightfully admit by the venom laced in her eyes that, for once, you're terrified of your best friend.

But you don't let it affect you like you use to do in the past and you continue looking for your purse- _Goddamnit_ , where the Hell is that thing?! The sooner you find it, the sooner you could leave this Hell hole and away from the army of vultures.

"Can you believe her?" A whole new level of flabbergasted, Aubrey asks the group and they murmur around to each other, all probably agreeing with the blonde because it feels a lot like you are raw meat in a cage full of hungry lions-or witches, both equally as bad.

 _Ugh_ , Aubrey is getting on your last nerve right now and it's taking every muscle in your body not to pounce on her like an alley cat.

You gotta get out of here before you do something stupid.

You turn around once finding your purse shoved in between the armrest of the couch and a pillow after tossing it mindlessly as you came in this morning and is greeted up close by those sharp pair of emerald eyes filled with venom that no doubt would've scared you shitless before.

But now, you're unaffected by Aubrey's signature glare and take your shoulder to shove right past her, almost causing her to stumble back from the force. You can feel Stacie's snakey, poisonous eyes on the back of your head as you leave the house and could practically see the tension left between you and the group.

God forbid that you ever touch Aubrey like how you just did, her _girlfriend,_ or whatever the Hell they are since they kiss and hold hands like they're a couple.

Maybe before this sudden switch in motives that came about early this morning, you would have felt sorry for talking to Aubrey the way you did. And maybe you still do, knowing that it's not Aubrey's fault that she's being brainwashed by two cult leaders and is still considered your best friend who you love and cherish with all your heart times a _trillion_.

As of right now, however, you could care less about what they think, and what you do around them, and how they judge you.

And it's this that curves a devilish smirk up at the corners of your mouth as you leave your sisters and all the hushed whispers behind, making your way out of the front door and immediately being greeted by Beca pressed up against the driver's side of her car with her arms crossed above her chest, one leg bent up on the door, cigarette dangling freely from her mouth and all around looking as sexy as ever.

Well, it _was_ dangling from her mouth until you make it fully outside for a view and when the door closes behind you, making your presence heard from the sound, that same cigarette plummets straight down into the cement next to her high top converse, unlit and unused, and she's not even trying to hide the amount of gawking she is directing towards you.

As a reflex, your self consciousness peeks out and you think that you might've done something wrong, or had something embarrassing stuck on your face when you meet Beca's intense stare from the distance.

But when you look down at your outfit to find whatever it is that had Beca staring like a deer in headlights, it clicks.

Oh how _everything_ clicks.

Shrugging up your purse to rest higher on your shoulder, you step down the few sets of stairs and use the following path connected to the Bellas' house as a runway. With your pride inflated to maximum volume and a smirk so cocky it puts Beca's to shame, you strut the remaining distance keeping you and the freshman apart, adding a little ( _a lot_ ) of sway to your hips as you walk, heeled boots clicking against the sidewalk with a purpose.

You can hear the faint music coming from inside Beca's car where her windows are rolled down; Def Leppard's "Pour Some Sugar On Me" is the song you can recognize and you use it to your advantage.

Like a movie montage filled with slow motion walking, you feel like a celebrity and purposely take your time making it to Beca's car, savoring every twitch on her facial expression that looks like she might pass out and die at any second, all because of _you._

And thanks to the slight breeze in Atlanta this fine morning, it blows your hair perfectly as if there was a fan set up full blast at your face, giving you this _ultimate_ model look.

All you really needed now was a dirty car, a skimpy bikini (preferably blue to highlight the eyes,) some soapy water to cover the exposed skin to join the music and _**bam**_ , you're basically a teenage boy's wet fantasy.

Or should you say _Beca's_ wet fantasy because by the way she's looking at you, chances are she's seconds away from _exploding_.

For a change, the reverse roles is satisfying to experience; Beca playing the dumbfounded, lovestruck girl being heavily affected by the attractive, _heart throbbing_ girl that happens to be played by you. It almost makes you giggle at the way Beca looks like she has just been slapped across the face the closer you get to her and how her eyes are far from being surreptitious while they eat up your outfit head to toe.

Needless to say, you love every second of being under the spotlight and wish you could live through this moment forever and then some.

Your self confidence is through the roof as you walk, blocking your vision from anything in sight and you completely miss the bug flying straight for your face that not only ruins your goal to physically _destroy_ Beca's sanity by your outfit, but also scares you half to death because anything insect wise is a definite **no.**

Thinking that the scene is ruined when you frantically shake away the bug off your face with your hand, the stunned expression and visible gape in Beca's mouth informs you that it has only amplified.

Seeing your chance, you flip your hair majestically over your other shoulder to cover up the bug incident, loose curls bouncing perfectly in place and you _swear_ Beca's knees begin to tremble at the sight.

You hide the urge to giggle at Beca's mesmerized expression, keeping up your facade to blow this girl away as doing this is now a challenge you want to win. Feeling like an eternity has gone by and you just walked a hundred miles before you're face to face with the freshman and her paralyzed state, you keep your smug smirk bold and intentions to flip the roles high, using the toe part of one of your heeled boots to squish Beca's cigarette into the pavement, but she doesn't even hint to breakaway from the stare created by the two of you and look down.

"Hi," you chirp causally in your innocent, Chloe Beale voice that could never mean any harm, even though your little stunt basically put Beca into paralysis. You glance down at your phone and see that it is exactly seven thirty, perfect timing to when Beca said she'd be at the Bellas' house to pick you up. "Just on time, I see. If I were to guess, I'd say someone is eager to see me," you tease, hiding the fact that _you_ are the one who was most eager to spend some more time with Beca.

It's when you are given no response to the statement from Beca that it becomes worrisome and maybe- _just maybe_ \- you might've killed the girl, which would have defeated the whole purpose of changing up your wardrobe for today when all you were trying to do was impress the freshman.

"Bec?" You call out cautiously and wave a hand in front of Beca's face when even blinking is non existent; it feels like you're talking to a statue. "Are you okay?"

The waving hand in front of her face snaps Beca out of whatever trance she fell deep into and she's shaking her head out of it. "I uh… you... _wow_...uh... _shit_ ," is all she is able to construct a sentence with and you bite your lip to the point of bleeding not to smile because _holy cow_. Has the day finally come where you've officially stunned Beca, the infamous badass, _speechless_? "You look... _Jesus_...wow, okay cool," she sputters out some more words that don't complete a full, English sentence; a perfect example of a word salad, which is very amusing to watch first hand from someone else.

You follow Beca's line of sight down to your outfit, shrugging your shoulders up nonchalantly. "Oh yeah! It's been awhile since I wore this." More like _years_ since you've put on this dress. Honestly, you forgot you even had it stashed in your closet. Is it bad that you can't remember when and where you bought the thing? "Do you like it?" You already know the answer to this, if not by the lack of communication coming from Beca's party, definitely by the way she can't seem to tear her eyes away from your frame and wouldn't even notice a bomb going off beside her if one were to do so.

"What happened to blending in?" Slowly, Beca pulls herself together and that killer smirk of hers is back before you know it.

You have a hard time deciding if the smirk was missed or not, because honestly, you were really getting a crack at that whole _paralyzed, zombie mannequin_ you transformed Beca into.

"I don't really like following the rules," Is your retort back, smirk mirroring Beca's effortlessly.

"I see that," Beca chuckles and it comes out all sorts of deep, the low timbre hitting you in all the right places. Playing off the previous speechless behavior coolly, "not following the rules is going to get yourself killed."

Confusion strikes your face before Beca leads you over to the passenger side door. "Wasn't it you who said that following the rules aren't any fun?" You give your timid appreciation to the girl when she opens the door for you, chivalry at its finest and you try really hard not to show how affected you are by the gesture.

Such a secret gentleman.

"I plead the fifth on that one," Beca says when she opens the door to the driver side and sits down, roaring the engine to back to life and slides down her aviators sitting at the top of her head.

"That's what I thought," you smile pompous, proud to have stumped Beca on that one. Crossing one of your legs over the other and getting into a more comfortable position when the car starts to move. You scout the inside of the vehicle for the aux cord connected to the dashboard stereo.

"And what do you think you're doing?" Beca asks incredulously as she suspiciously watches you make yourself at home.

You continue searching at Beca's question, ignoring it entirely until you find exactly what you're looking for and sliding the plug into your phone. The entire time you are scanning your phone's music library, Beca's gaze through her limo tinted sunglasses can be felt like two hot plates pressed to the side of your face, but you continue searching until you find the one song you've been looking for.

Eyes reading over a familiar song title, you gasp excitedly as your thumb presses over the song and your other hand slides over to the volume knob on the stereo, turning it up to a perfect morning level-not too loud, but not too quiet either.

At the opening notes of the mysterious song choice you picked out for the ride to campus, Beca immediately refuses. "Absolutely fucking not." She attempts to somehow turn off the stereo, but before her hand could make it to that certain button, you smack her hand away.

"You drive, I will DJ," you assert boldly and the action earns an astonished half smile from Beca who obliges without a fight, returning her hand back to the stick shift.

"Just because you punched a guy doesn't mean you can do whatever the Hell you want, especially in _my_ car." Anyone else, the statement would've came off as assertive and definitely not as funny as you currently think it is. But this is Beca, who doesn't even hint any irritation towards you.

Maybe the song choice because she looks seconds away from tossing the device straight out her window, but not you personally.

And you have enough right to say that your friendship with Beca has grown a _tremendous_ amount from the first encounter.

So, you can do things like this, steal her aux cord, play your own music and boss her around for a bit.

"What was it that Luke calls you?" you ask amusedly over Toni Basil's "Mickey" playing in the background, bringing you right back to yesterday's late night activities with only a pleasant wave of nostalgia.

Beca switches her attention from the road, to you, and back to the road a few times, leaving your question unanswered.

" _Becky_ , was it?" But you never needed an answer since you knew the whole time and the confirmation you get from Beca that the nickname is correct is the purse in her lips and tightening happening in her jaw muscles, like she already knows what evil ploying is about to happen.

" _Oh Becky, what a pity, you don't understand. You take me by the heart when you take me by the hand,"_ you sing the customized lyrics out loud when the part comes on and sway your upper body to the beat of the song all while Beca shakes her head mortified.

But also greatly amused by the little smirk she has poking out at the corner of her mouth _._

"Stop," she orders sourly, but something about the way she says it doesn't make you take it seriously enough. Must've been that hint of a grin you can spot on her lips and it's this that only arouses you to sing _louder_ , and more _enthusiastic_.

You use your free hand that isn't holding your phone up to your mouth like it's a microphone and poke your fingers repeatedly into Beca's ribs, creating your own seducing, yet playfully theoretical dances moves at Beca. " _Oh Becky, you're so pretty, can't you understand. It's girls like you, Becky. Oh what you do Becky, do Becky. Don't break my heart, Becky."_

"Damn it, Red! _Stop_!" Again, not too convincing, especially now that she is full on _smiling_ , like a genuine, freaking smile on her face while she tries to swat your hand away from an obvious ticklish spot that you hope to remember for future reference and you swear at first glance, a smile like that makes your heart faint. "Do you want me to crash and kill us both?"

If you get to look at a smile that beautiful for the rest of your time alive then _yes_.

Go ahead and crash the car.

Giving up on singing for now, "you're so pretty," you mumble dreamy as you stare at Beca like your life depended on it from the passenger seat and lean your temple against the headrest.

Any other time, you'd be appalled for allowing your admiration get the best of you, but this time, you feel nothing by the confession, because Beca _is_ pretty- **God** , she's so much _more_ than pretty that it should be a crime not to tell her a wholly amount of times how absolutely _jaw dropping_ she really is.

You might be getting ahead of yourself, but you swear you could see a faint blush appearing underneath the brim of Beca's aviators at the compliment and if that's not the greatest accomplishment you have ever fulfilled, then you don't know what is.

Guess black isn't the only color that looks good on her.

* * *

You fail your Sociology quiz, miserably, to say the least, but honestly, it's what you expected.

On the brighter note, however, the quiz that downright destroyed your brain, it was all the professor had planned for the class and basically after knowing nothing on the quiz, you got to leave class earlier than expected, which you were thrilled times a thousand, because it meant you got to get coffee sooner than expected and right now, you needed a _gallon_ of coffee.

That's what you get for not sleeping.

You text Beca to let her know that you got out of class early since the two of you still planned on getting coffee afterwards, which is literally the only reason why your mood didn't turn to straight poop after just humiliating yourself on that quiz. Honestly, you are _positive_ that nothing can ruin your mood as you wait outside in the student parking lot for Beca to come pick you up, because this is something that you've been waiting a while for and wouldn't let a bad grade in a class get in the way of a coffee date.

A coffee date with _Beca._

You wait patiently on a bench for Beca, occasionally finding interest in a random squirrel climbing into a trashcan here, or a group of walking students chatting amongst each other there.

People watching has always been so intriguing to you-something about the way people go about their daily lives in comparison to how you live your own is _extremely_ interesting and not in any way shape or form creepy- though you don't like to know when the roles are flipped and suddenly you're the one under the spotlight, especially when the amount of staring is pretty obvious.

All day you've been getting different looks from peers than what you'd usually get from them. _Yes_ , you understand that you've made it rather obvious that you switched up your everyday wear in less than a day and people are having a hard time adjusting to it-the boys especially- but all the gawking stares and mutters under people's breath makes it feel like you've committed a _crime_ or something.

It's just an outfit for crying out loud. Calm down people.

No need for you to make trending news at Barden University.

You hear Beca's car before seeing the actual vehicle and suddenly, all the extra stares you feel are old news and the only thing you can think about is Beca, which of course isn't much of a shock that the girl takes up majority of your daily thoughts.

Black muscle car pulling up to the curb, Beca greets you with her signature crooked smile and gets out of the car without turning it off, meeting you at the passenger side. Opening the door once again, you slide in with an appreciative smile and all the stares pointed at you from before are now directed to the vehicle, one person in particular who is now opening up the driver's side and taking a seat.

The stares from people around campus last all the way until Beca is pulling out onto the main street; she doesn't seem all that affected by the sudden attention drawn to you guys, but you can't help but feel like a celebrity on campus with all the looks and gaping at the mouths. Honestly, it feels damn good to roll passenger side with Beca, probably way more than it should.

And it doesn't stop there.

When you guys arrive at the coffee shop, you walk in first after Beca holds open the door for you, all heads are turned as the two of you walk in and the little bell at the top of the door goes off, signalling everyone's attention who are currently present in the room and pausing all conversations for the time being.

Instantly, a thick cloud of static silence surrounds the two of you and again, Beca doesn't seem too affected by all the eyes, nor does she seem to notice anything abnormal going on, unlike you who is having a hard time processing all of the sudden attention lately.

Maybe it's because the two of your guys' outfits match perfectly together; all the black, the leather, the boots, the sunglasses and the instant classification of ' _badass_ ' to your looks.

Maybe it's being out with Beca who you know for a fact draws in the eyes, whether it's because of her _intoxicating_ facial features, or the way her hair seems perfect, like, _all the time._

Or her mysterious aroma she wears like perfume that reels in all the attention.

Either way, you _love_ it.

And you can't help but think that everyone is jealous of you, which you don't blame them.

Beca is too hot for words and if someone else were to be in your position, you'd be jealous too-scratch that, all Hell would break loose if someone else were in your position.

Eventually after you guys order coffees at the register; Beca pays for both of them before you can even offer and claims it not to be a big deal for paying when you tell her that you'll pay her back, the stares die down once the two of you pick out a booth to sit in. Erin, a girl from your College Algebra class you took sophomore year and is still friends with takes the orders.

But even during this interaction you can practically smell the intimidation radiating off the petite blonde when Beca tells her what you guys want to drink.

"Is this normal?" You ask suddenly, gesturing your index finger around the place where the two of your are seated when Beca arches up her eyebrow, confused on what you're referring to.

"It's like they can smell that I kill witches for a living," Beca snorts, combing her fingers through her hair to ruffle it a bit before flipping it over to the other side perfectly and you completely stop breathing, _oh shocker._ "But I don't think they're gawking at me, Red," she drops casually, adding in a little smirk and you hate the fact that you're able to blush so easy when it comes to anything involving compliments from Beca.

"So do you approve?" You hide your obvious blushing with a smug smirk to reflect Beca's, leaning your elbows on top of the wooden table top to get closer. "Of my outfit an all." You end your sentence with a shrug, feigning innocence. "I didn't really get an answer from you before," and you slide this in, still finding so much accomplishment with leaving Beca at a lost for words earlier.

"It's definitely a nice view." Whether it's intentional or not, Beca's eyes descend down your body where your arms are crossed over each other on the table, shamelessly scanning what she can and because this is Beca _blatantly_ checking you out and not anybody else, who would've already received a slap to the face, you covertly puff out your chest with your arms, giving Beca a better look to gawk at.

"Good to hear," you shoot back, tossing a wink at Beca, but of course she doesn't see it because her eyes are _elsewhere_ on your body; a spot you've taken great pride to amplify.

Coffee comes out sooner than expected; Erin, as flustered as ever, holds two cups of coffee, unintentionally interrupting the tension between you and Beca, much to your dismay. Sending her off with a wide smile and a "thanks," you take a small sip of your usual; a perfectly executed pumpkin spice latte with nonfat milk, easy on the cream while Beca does the same with her _boring_ , freshly brewed, hot black coffee.

Really, you should've expected the girl to drink her coffee black since everything else in her life is _black_.

What were you even thinking?

"When are we going to do some more training?" You ask under the coffee mug touching your lips. Taking another drink before setting it down, you ask another question you're eager to hear the answer to. "What's the plan for the rush Saturday?"

"After we steal your friend," is Beca's response; a response leaving so many missing puzzle pieces to what she means.

You think back to the conversation you had with Beca this morning. "Aubrey?" And she nods her head at your guess. "What are we going to do with her?" Not that you assume Beca would purposely do anything bad to Aubrey, but since the two of you would technically be abducting a witch with many powerful capabilities, the thought to ask is there, as well as the curiosity.

Plus, Beca and Aubrey aren't too _fond_ of each other-or at least they weren't before the whole mixer night when Aubrey's brain was handed over to Gail and Kommissar and it was the last time you saw the _real_ Aubrey Posen in the flesh.

Now, she is just confusing, scary and annoying all at the same time, giving you a _wicked_ headache.

Beca takes a while to answer your question regarding what would be done once Aubrey is taken, but after sometime to gather her response, she does."Hopefully by then I'll have a plan, but as of now, I got nothing. All I know is that you want your best friend back and I'm here to help." It's not the answer you expected, but nonetheless is the response not reassuring and brings a small smile to your face to hear that Beca will help your friend.

Look at that.

Barden's badass is starting to show that she really _does_ care.

"I'm assuming by this weekend and progressively throughout the weeks since the rush is the main part of Gail's plan, students will start to drop like flies, so expect a lot of missing posters around campus."

 _Oh that's reassuring._

"Hopefully by then, again, with a little extra help from Luke and maybe even your friend, we will find the nest where Gail and Kommissar keep their victims locked up before their spell."

"Can't wait," you retort sarcastically, the thought of people disappearing around campus not settling all that well for you-as it shouldn't for anybody.

Also, did she say that Aubrey would help them when she returns her back to normal, if at all possible? If she thought training with you was difficult, she has a whole other thing coming trying to get Aubrey to shoot a gun, let alone _hold_ one.

A few seconds of comfortable silence goes by; you go back to people watching as you sip your coffee and Beca does the same with hers.

"I'll be right back," Beca announces as she stands up, but you grab her wrist before she can leave.

"Where are you going?"

Brows knit together and she glances down at her wrist where a strong grasp is preventing her from going any further. "To the bathroom?" Beca answers this in question form and you ease up on your grip around her wrist.

 _Of course_ she's going to the bathroom. Where else could she possibly go? Not like she'd just leave you here alone without telling you-or _would_ she?! You don't know. All you know is that the past twenty four hours have left you with a lot of trust issues with Beca because of the, _cough cough_ , bar incident.

"Sorry," you apologize with an awkward chuckle as Beca eyes you suspiciously- _how freaking embarrassing._ Talk about being number one in the clingy department, _Jesus_ , _Beale, cool your jets_. "I'll be here then."

Beca leaves with a smirk on her face and you mentally smack the living crap out of yourself for being so stupid, gluing your attention out the window and away from everything else.

Just as she leaves, another presence slides up to take her spot in the booth the two of you are in and when you glance over to see who it is, shaggy brown hair and that infamous half smile to cloud your vision.

"Oh hi, Tom." Though you're rather surprised by the unannounced guest joining you at the table, you greet him with a warm smile and a chirp to your tone nonetheless. "What's up?"

"I was just here with some of the boys getting coffee before we start film for football," Tom replies through a smile, dressed in his usual attire that consists of the typical, frat guy appearance- a white polo t-shirt, black ray bans to hang from the v-cut and pastel colored shorts. Without even looking under the table, you assume he's also wearing Sperrys, the _hideous_ boat shoes every frat brother owns. "I saw you come in and had to say hi."

This is interesting, taking that you and Tom wouldn't really even be considered friends and are basically just acquaintances that occasionally smile at each other in the hallways, which is bizarre because sororities and frats should be a close knit group where sisters date brothers and all that _cliche_ crap. Guess you're just the anomaly of the group, _go_ _figure_.

"You look great, by the way," he compliments all of a sudden before you can say anything back. "Very... _edgy_ and hot." His eyes take the same route down your body, the same way Beca's did, but this time it makes you feel this uncomfortable urge to cover yourself up. "We should totally hang out sometime," Tom suggests hopeful, and _this_ , ladies and gents, is why you're _gay_ and always will be _gay_. Why do boys insist on coming on _so strong?_

 _Jesus_ , ask about how your morning went, or how classes are going so far in the semester before you jump the gun on " _hanging out_ ," which we all know what he really means; you were straight for a brief, _regrettable_ moment in your life and realized what Netflix and chill _really_ meant when one second you were watching a movie that you were really into, then suddenly, out of nowhere, you had a dude's tongue down your throat.

"Your sisters have been telling me lots about you." Oh no. This _cannot_ be good. Anything coming from the Bellas could range from bad, to absolutely _horrible_. "Saying that we'd make a cute couple and all you do is talk about me when you're at the home games, but are too shy to come and talk to me."

You almost gag as a reflex when hearing this, but you breathe through the sudden wave of nausea before your discomfort becomes noticeable. Nothing against Tom; he's a genuinely nice guy-potato sack _dumb_ \- but he means good. However, _gross_. Way, **way** _gross_.

"I heard the Bellas' rush is suppose to be the biggest in history. Maybe we could hang there?"

"Mhmm," you hum your reply while nodding your head with your fist covering your mouth from where your elbow is keeping your head up on the table, the urge to throw up still very possible. "Sure," you choke out no matter how much you want to decline the suggestion.

Isn't this whole _blending_ _in_ thing Beca has been preaching? Hanging out with Tom as if you're going to later lure him into Gail's big, giant spell to take over the world? If it is, why do you feel so guilty about doing it, saying you'll hang out with Tom for one reason only when the only person you want to spend time with is basically _forcing_ you into hanging out with him.

All of this doesn't make any sense whatsoever.

Tom keeps his cool, but the vibe you're getting off from him is aggressive, and the smile he has planted on his face the entire conversation is _disgustingly_ overconfident. You try to think of a way to get him to leave, politely hinting that his presence is no longer wanted, not that it was in the first place.

But he hasn't really done _anything_ wrong, to be honest. You just want him to leave before Beca gets back, which should be at any moment, and you have to keep up the facade that you're actually enjoying this interaction when enjoying it is the last emotion you're feeling right now

Just as you're about to make up a silly excuse that you need to go to the bathroom, get lost and just never come back, Tom's eyes roll to the back of his head before his whole upper body goes flaccid and slams down into the table, knocking both yours and Beca's coffee onto the ground. The boisterous noise from his face eating the table startles everyone in the shop, you included, and the worry around the room only increases when he doesn't move, nor does it look like he's breathing.

But then you see a familiar size needle sticking out of the side of his neck just under his ear and suddenly that worry flooding your body vanishes faster than you move slyly to pull the needle out of his neck before anyone notices, knowing exactly where it came from.

You play it off by checking his pulse and transform into damsel in distress mode, hiding the object in your palm. "Help! He's breathing, but someone please call 911!" You would've aced drama class with your performance, the worry in your tone and how you can instantly make it look like you're about to cry is _golden_.

The manager appears out of nowhere, same with the group of frat guys Tom was with, pushing you out of the way immediately, and you make up some stupid excuse that you're going to be sick, not that your presence is even noticed or wanted. Now with all the attention drawn off of you and directed towards a lifeless Tom slouched over in the booth, you sneak away from the scene and head to the bathrooms where you know for a fact you'll end up running into the culprit behind Tom's " _fainting_."

"Is your boyfriend okay?" Right outside the woman's bathroom door stands a guilty looking Beca Mitchell, who doesn't look the slightest bit sympathetic about pulling this little stunt, _again_ , and you march over to her, shoving the needle you snagged out of Tom's neck into her face.

"Seriously?" You hiss when making it to Beca, holding up the skinny, four centimeter needle at eye level, waving it back and forth as if shaking it would convey how you felt about experiencing a real life Deja vu moment where someone passes out in front of you mid conversation. " _Again?_ "

Beca squints at the needle like she doesn't already know what it is, getting a better look. "I don't know what that is." Beca is playing dumb, feigning innocence as she pretends to inspect the needle she plucked from your fingers and you feel like a mother about to lecture her child after they've done something bad- _very_ bad, like jail time bad if she were to get caught.

"You can't just go around shooting people in public with tranquilizer darts," you lecture, but you know it's not effective because you've learned that Beca does what she wants, when she wants, and it's as simple as that. Anything said to the girl goes in one ear, out the other, but it doesn't stop you from trying.

"Looked like you wanted him to leave you alone," is Beca's nonchalant response and okay, yeah, it's true that you wanted Tom to leave, but it doesn't make what Beca did to him okay. "It was a smaller dose than what I gave that one guy all over you at the football game, so chill out. He should be golden in no time."

You want to scream at Beca's smug grin, yet kiss it all at the same time.

From where you are standing, you can see Tom starting to wake up, his expression is a mixture between confused and frightened, and his eyes are fogged over. All his friends hound him with questions about what happened; all of which are unanswerable due to his daze, and the manager asks him if he is alright, or if they need to call for medical assistance.

When you turn back to face Beca again, she doesn't even try to hide the amount of amusement she is glowing with when her focus is glued on Tom.

"See? Didn't even mess up his perfect hair."

You blink dumbly at Beca's playful grin, brain all of a sudden too exhausted to come up with a response to this, not that there would be any point and instead just a waste of breath.

Beca Mitchell is _incorrigible._

Rolling your eyes, you grab at Beca's wrist and head towards the back exit of the shop where no attention would be drawn to you two. With your coffee all over the floor next to the booth you guys were sitting in and a dazed, secretly attacked Tom sitting in Beca's place, the only thing left to do is leave the perimeter _immediately_.

"Come on, trouble. You're now buying me breakfast for that little stunt," you tell the girl you have pulling in tow, the realization that maybe Tom getting shot in the neck by Beca's high tech, blow dart thingy was a good thing and sees absolutely no problem with spending some more one on one time with the troublemaker herself.

And Beca doesn't even fight the pull.

* * *

You jolt yourself awake when the nightmares come back, face and forehead layered with sweat, chest heaving for air and your entire body trembling at the vivid memories of what you just went through. You allow yourself to cry at the images as the dream felt real and cradle your knees to your chest for some sort of comfort.

It doesn't really surprise you that the awful dreams come back after your confrontation with Aubrey earlier that morning, which probably wasn't the best way to go about things when living in a witch nest and could've easily put yourself in even more danger than you already are in.

Luckily, rumor around the Bellas' house got around that you went to get coffee with Tom and _that_ was the real reason why you were dressed so differently and in such a rush to leave this morning. It's twisting the story to a tee, but the twist from your sisters saves your butt from Gail and Kommissar when they find out and instead of experiencing God only knows what would happen to you if they found out you were with Beca, they excitedly urge you to hang out with Tom this coming up Saturday at the Bellas' rush.

You don't want to, but you tell them that-that was the _original_ plan. To lure him into his own death without him actually knowing it.

It takes a while for your breathing to return to a normal pace, a lot longer than the last time when you experienced the sleepless night filled with those realistic nightmares, but eventually after coaching yourself a broken record amount of times through how they aren't real, your heavy pants return back to normal. You still see the images when you try to fall back asleep, which leaves you to toss and turn uncomfortably, unable to get your mind off of the nightmares and onto something more peaceful.

Figuring that sleep anytime soon is impossible now that your mind is scarred from being tortured by bloodthirsty witches that happen to be the people you are sharing a house with, you pull out your phone to type in a number that belongs to the only person in their right mind who would be up this late.

You press the phone up to your ear and thanks to the rapid beating from your heart, the rings through the device are faint under the pulsing happening in your ear drums.

" **Red,** " Beca answers the call a lot quicker than you expected, but even by just the sound of her voice, you already feel a wave of relief and you feel your body starting to calm itself down. " **Are you okay?"**

"I had another dream," you croak, your voice barely above a whisper and is still strained from all the crying. There's no fluffing around the actual reason why you called Beca; it's straight to point, just like you wanted it to be.

Silence floods the line until it's Beca breaking the silence with a soft, " **want me to come over?"** and this time there's a different reason as to why your heart is seconds away from fluttering straight out of your chest.

"No," It's not the answer you wanted to say, but it's the less selfish option out of the two you had to choose from. "It's okay." It's really not okay because this round of nightmares really messed you up and everywhere you look you just... _see_ them. These monsters hunting you, your family, even Beca and definitely not being gentle in any way when they catch you.

But hearing Beca breathe through on the other side of the call and knowing she is _there_ is good enough for you.

Or so you _thought_.

Three beeps through the line indicate that the call has been lost between you and Beca- that, or Beca simply just hung up on you, having enough of hearing you cry about your nightmares like she's your therapist, but something tells you that Beca would never feel that way towards you. So, you're just about to redial her number again, but as you're doing so, strange noises from outside your window alarms you, and your heart rate spikes right back up in the bad way.

Here's the thing, you could either check to see what could be outside your window at two in the morning and possibly _die_ , or ignore it completely, and call Beca back so you at least have someone to talk to and take your mind off the fact that you could be murdered at any second and still possibly _die_.

The noises stop and you think that maybe it was just the wind or a bird causing a lot of ruckus on the roof's ledge where your window meets. Perhaps, a squirrel is running around out there, who knows. All you do know is that whatever it was is gone now and you can resume your actions to call Beca back and maybe tell her that you've changed your mind and she should totally come over after all.

You hear noises again mid way through your messages to find Beca's contact name and this time you know for a fact that a squirrel isn't outside your window because last time you checked, a squirrel can't _knock_ -maybe a bird with its beak, but definitely _not_ a squirrel.

Knocking continues outside your window, but it's too dark to see anything but blackness and a bright glare from the street lights bordering the house below.

You sit there at the very top of your bed, cradling your pillow pet lion that you always fell asleep with for dear life as the noises continue from at least ten feet away from your bed. It's when there's only silence being heard around the room before you hear a completely different noise happening outside and... **OH MY GOD,** you forgot to lock your window.

Wait, no, maybe you did lock it from earlier when you had it opened and nope, okay, definitely **didn't** lock it because your window is now being opened and holy _shit_ you're about to get real life _murdered_ by an intruder.

A shadow crawls through the window and a normal person with a brain would've screamed _bloody murder_ for some type of help, but you live with a bunch of witches, so that wouldn't help your case. The only thing that keeps you from doing so, waking up the whole house with a banshee call for help is the strong stench of cigarettes your senses is instantly hit with once the dark figure is standing fully inside.

When you flip on your desk lamp next to you, the intruder is revealed and you're feeling way to many emotions at once. "What the Hell, Beca!?" you whisper sharply when she comes into view from the dim light, eyes bulging from your head. "Are you _crazy_?! Breaking and entering?! Really?!"

"I decided to just come over," Beca shrugs and you can see the humor she finds in the scene dripping from her grin that is increasing in size by the second.

You start to calm down at the realization that it's just Beca who caused your near heart attack, but it doesn't defeat the purpose that she broke into your room. How she did it? You have no _freaking_ idea. Only thing that comes to mind is that she's not only a DJ and a witch hunter, but also is a secret _ninja_.

"And you couldn't have told me this over the phone instead of apparently _hanging_ _up_ on me."

"Where's the fun in that?" There's that _infuriating_ , yet sexy smirk of hers, which is now the brightest thing in your room.

Even though what you just went through was a roller coaster of a scare, you're elated to see Beca even when you told her not to come.

But then you think about the fact that where you guys are currently having this discussion is a " _Beca_ _free_ _zone_ " and literally at any moment, she could be caught in your room.

And something tells you that getting caught by Gail and Kommissar with a girl trying to kill them is a _horrible_ idea.

"You're crying," Beca says softly from where she crawled in through your window and you can feel her eyes studying your appearance, which is the total opposite of how you dressed today for classes.

You don't argue this, simply because you know your eyes are still puffy from the crying you've done when you were startled awake, and probably red from the crying, too. Without looking, you can tell your hair is one giant bird's best on the top of your head and the outfit- _good_ _lord_ , the outfit, which is a baggy, purple t-shirt with a kitten in ear muffs is just _embarrassing_. Overall-and excuse the French- but you look like total _shit_ right now.

In front of Beca.

A girl who you have _thee_ largest crush on.

If she wasn't into you before, she's definitely not anymore, nor will she _ever_ be with the way you look.

" _Ugh_ , I know," you admit to crying and try to rub out the sadness from your eyes, but probably only making them _more_ swollen than before. "Sorry you have to see me like this."

"Like what?" Beca sounds genuinely curious about what you mean and, like, come on. The answer is right in front of her, staring back with kitten eyes. "I think you look _beautiful_."

"You do?" You say once you're able to push down the hurricane of flutters from the butterflies caught in your stomach.

"For sure," Beca assures with a sincere smile; a smile different from all the other ones you've been familiar with, one that could never hold a lie. She takes her first couple steps closer to your bed. "I mean, don't get me wrong, your look today was _smokin_ ' _hot_ , like, what are words type of hot-you saw." You giggle at the memory of stumping Beca into speechlessness; it was your greatest accomplishment thus far. "But you have this _raw_ beauty underneath the makeup and dresses that makes me want to believe that you aren't even human, but instead this masterpiece that came from somewhere unknown."

It's your turn to become speechless, but the lack of words doesn't stop the way your heart is hammering against your chest from the way Beca is looking at you like she means _every_ last word.

You want to cry again, but for a whole different reason this time.

Beca gestures with her head to the foot of your bed and you give her the green light to sit down, the uneasy feeling of her being here in the house still weighing you down.

You can admit, however, that having the girl in your room gives you an invisible shield of safety, like, nothing could ever hurt you when Beca's around and it's this feeling that makes it okay she's sitting at the edge of your bed when at any moment, the two of you could be caught.

And maybe it's selfish, but you can't lie and say that having Beca around _doesn't_ make you feel better.

 _Content_.

"You're insane," you chuckle as the ability to talk comes back to you.

"I know." It's a typical response coming from the one person who gives insane a whole new meaning. She takes the chance to look around and nods her head while examining the area with a purse to her lips. "Cool room."

You bite your bottom lip not to smile at the adorableness of Beca awkwardly trying to make small talk and how her hands are fidgeting around one another on top of her lap.

"Thanks," you smile softly, quirking your lip to the side and playing with the ear of your pillow pet-that you should toss immediately because, _whoa_ , so not badass. In an attempt to be subtle, you toss it mindlessly out of your hands and it lands somewhere below your bed.

Not thinking too much of it, Beca speaks. "You still scared?" You give Beca a shaky nod to answer, smile beginning to fade away with the real reason why Beca showed up to your room. "I uh," she starts, moving one of her hands to rub at the back of her neck and this time when she gestures up the bed to the empty area next to you, it's a timid point with her hand and it's a movement so uncharacteristic of her. "Can I?" she finally finishes her previous thought and it comes out strangled, like the question was trapped deep in her throat.

Faster than you can even process it, you are giving her another green light to go and your pulse starts racing again with a mixture between nerves and excitement.

Hesitantly, Beca moves to scoot up on your bed and you give her more space to make her feel comfortable and also to give a little space between you two because you're _certain_ that the thunderous beating of your heart can be heard.

Next thing that happens is Beca sliding up right beside you, leaning her back against the mountain of pillows you sleep with and avoids all forms of eye contact. You don't think she breathed the entire time she maneuvered herself closer and you really don't think she's breathing now.

The crickets from outside can basically be heard through the thick, awkward silence between you two and it's not until an arm hooks around the tops of your shoulders, cautiously pulling you closer to her at a reasonable speed (thank God because any faster you might pass out) that you slip out an audible gasp, stunned by the action, especially coming from Beca, who is anti _physical contact_ no matter what.

 _Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God,_ is what's being processed through your head like a constant alarm going off as you get pulled into Beca's torso.

She's as stiff as a board when you come into contact with her body and you try not to make any sudden movements, afraid that you might startle her somehow and ruin this whole moment you've been fantasizing about since you don't even know when.

And like a switch out of the blue, you take the invitation and cling to her body like a koala on a tree, or a leech latching onto skin, but the first simile was _way_ cuter.

Her muscles around her stomach where your arm is snaked over are still rock hard tight, but slowly after you hear a long, exhale of air, you feel her body begin to deflate, and all the tension leaves her body when she tightens her grip over your shoulder. This is by far the closest Beca has ever been to you, besides that time during training when she was teaching you how to shoot, or yesterday afternoon when she was coaching you through the proper way to hold a pool stick.

More silence fills the room, but you're too busy trying to mask the amount of giddiness that's buzzing through your body at the surprising, yet very pleasant closeness and you hide your face into her shirt from the smile splitting your face in half and get a good whiff of smoke radiating off of Beca's leather jacket.

Seemingly, Beca starts to relax and she crosses her legs at the ankles; you ignore the fact that she still has her shoes on while laying in your bed, not wanting to ruin the moment even when your OCD is kicking in.

Clearing her throat in effort to get back into her element, "wanna tell me about it?" Beca asks gentle and soft, her words the most fragile you've ever heard them before.

You sigh contently, shaking your head into Beca's shirt and not even attempting to test your voice because you know nothing would come out. All you want to do is lay here, in Beca arms, try not to have a freak out and somehow ruin the moment, and you definitely don't want to remember the nightmares. You're more than perfect, better than what you were before and you don't want to go back to the tears.

Though tears of joy are possible.

Beca takes the answer and doesn't bug you about it anymore. Your eyes gradually fall shut at how nice it feels to be wrapped up in someone else's arms and them to hold onto you delicately, but strong at the same time. You feel her tossing around beneath you and when peek an eye open to see what has her moving around so much, the lamp you turned on from before is now off, darkening the room other than the stars and street lights glowing from outside your window.

"I didn't have a cigarette today," Beca announces out of nowhere and the sudden announcement causes you to lift your head from where it was pressed up against Beca's collarbone region. "I know it _smells_ like I did, but I didn't." She hovers a hand over her jacket that soaked up all the smoke from previous cigarettes. You think the smell might be permanent even _with_ a few washes. "The temptation was there, believe me, but I...pushed them all aside."

"I'm proud of you," and you really are proud of her if your smile has anything to back you up, knowing just how hard it was to quit something cold turkey after it has became a daily duty. You might not be a smoker, but cookies, cake and ice cream are a _son of a bitch_ to quit, especially with the sweet _teeth_ that you have.

Despite all the lights being turned off, your eyes have gotten use to the darkness and you can spot a smile forming on Beca's lips. You also think Beca is starting to loosen up from the closeness and where your hand is resting on the side of her hip because the fingers draped on your shoulder begin brushing the skin in small patterns, raising all the hair on your body with immediate goosebumps.

"That's hard for me to believe since I always end up disappointing someone at some point." She keeps her smile planted on her face, but her choice of words gives the conversation a shift in tone.

"Now that's even _harder_ to believe because I have a talent of seeing the best in people, and what I see in you is nothing but greatness," you cheek a grin to which you hope Beca can see because it only backs up how much you truly mean this. Beca is extraordinary; one of a kind that you've had the honor of meeting. "You never cease to amaze me, Beca Mitchell."

Beca doesn't respond other than the smile she has on her face and it's good enough for you.

"Are you feeling better?" Honestly, you forgot you even had a nightmare in the first place because right now, as Beca holds you and was the one to initiate all the physical contact, it feels like you're stuck living in a dream.

A dream you never want to wake up from.

But you don't want to say this out loud, because what if Beca decides that her company isn't needed anymore and leaves?

And you really, _really_ don't want Beca to leave now that she's here.

You don't know when you'll get to experience this moment again, if it even happens, so you need to take advantage of the time you got before Beca switches back into her normal, moody behavior where getting a smile out of the girl is like completing a Rubik's cube.

"I'm alright," you opt for this instead and Beca nods her head, listening.

"Nightmares suck." You snort out a laugh. Ain't that the truth. "I basically live in one everyday."

"What got you into witch hunting-I mean, I know you're a basically a witch and all," Which is hard to believe because Beca is so _normal_ , not that you've met many witches before to compare the two. "But what made you want to kill witches, to say the least."

"My mom. "

You don't expect this to be the reason, nor did you expect for Beca to actually answer your question in the first place, knowing by experience how hard it was to get anything out of her. Isn't she just full of many surprises tonight?

"I know I kinda suck at _everything_ , especially opening up, but I.. _ugh_ , I don't know." The frustration and the hand dragging through her hair, balling it into a fist at the top of her head comes out of nowhere. The way she's looking everywhere around the room _except_ at you. "I like...want to tell you these things. I really do."

"But you're not ready, I know, Bec," you see the desperation like a cry for help and finish the thought for her. "You can tell me whenever you feel comfortable."

"What if _whenever_ is too late?" She shoots back with, again, taking you by surprise by the response.

The hand in her hair loosens and she retracts it back to place over her stomach. This time though when she lands her hand, it's directly covering yours-and though you've slowed down your heart rate from the initial contact when you first were laying in Beca's arms, you think your heart isn't even functioning anymore with how incredibly fast it's beating.

How do you go from crying _alone_ in your room from a terrible nightmare to being held by the one person you never would have thought she knew the meaning of _comfort_?

"I'm not going anywhere, Beca. I sure hope you know that you're kinda stuck with me and that it's going to take a Hell of a lot more than killing witches to scare me away," you assure as genuine as you humanly can, making sure that Beca knows that you mean every last word. "I know after this whole ' _witch_ ' crisis is over and you're back in California, being a super talented music producer, but I hope we can at least still be friends-I mean, honestly, we are about to kill witches together. If that's not friendship goals, I don't know what is."

Beca emits a true laugh; a laugh almost too loud for comfort when remembering where you guys are-though it's the most magical sound you've ever heard. "I knew from the very first moment I saw you that getting rid of you would be _impossible_. I guess back then I didn't see how much I wouldn't mind having you around- _and geez_ , just the thought of never seeing you again makes my heart cramp."

You melt at the words and giggle at Beca's description, stomach performing somersaults of emotion. "Don't worry, I'm _irresistible_. I should really come with a warning," you gloat conceitedly.

"You're _confusing,_ " Beca corrects with an amused raised eyebrow, the specific word making its return to the conversation again. "Yet I can't get you off my mind."

Beca is looking back down at you and you never noticed before how close your faces are. So close you can trace out the features on her face and hear the soft breathing through her nose, pretty much a breath away. Your head is spinning and you're feeling more and more drowsy, exhaustion hitting you full blast no thanks to the caressing still happening on your shoulder.

"I know I said that everyday I'm living the same nightmare, the whole killing witches and shit, which is true, but I cannot count the ways in which you have brightened my life, Chloe Beale."

It's the first time _ever_ to hear Beca say your full name and it's something that has never sounded so good coming out from someone else's mouth. You stare at Beca, and she stares at you, emotions running high and the pulling urge to close the distance is strong, but she looks away before you can even try to lean in. You sigh defeated at the denial, not that you should've expected anything else from the girl and return your head back to her chest.

Now that Beca's attention is elsewhere in the room and your eyes barely have enough strength to stay open any longer, you gradually allow them to close under the soothing trickle of Beca's fingers over the skin on your arm and gentle raises on her chest from her breathing and the side of your face moving in sync with the breaths.

How you didn't just get kissed then is something beyond you, but never less, you're ecstatic with the route your friendship with Beca has taken, and like Luke said, you're willing to wait for however long it may be for Beca to see the vicious chemistry between you two.

Unless your heart explodes before then from the abundance of happiness you feel as you start to drift out of consciousness with nothing but the warmth of Beca underneath and the scent of smoke on her jacket.

* * *

The next time you wake up in the morning, it's not from a terrible dream you had. Instead, it's from a dream that instantly fills your body with a warm euphoria and you don't know how, but you wake up with a grin on your face that you could only assume you fell asleep with. For a second, you think it was a dream; Beca sneaking into your window, her holding-comforting you back to sleep in a weird Romeo and Juliet scenario, but a lot more leather and the fact she kills witches for a living. You think this until you get a faint whiff of smoke on the opposite side of your bed where you fell asleep and you realize right then that it wasn't a dream.

It wasn't a dream.

Beca was _here_.

* * *

The Bellas' rush comes faster than you expected, like, one moment you're falling asleep in Russian Lit during lecture, then next thing you know you're out and about with Aubrey and Stacie doing multiple liquor runs in preparation for Barden's _biggest_ event ever held, as the people around campus rumored.

It almost feels normal hanging out with Aubrey and Stacie when you drive all of you guys to the store, which previously was a terrifying, _absolutely no way_ type of deal you wanted to participate in, but blending in came about, and acting skittish and distant from your sisters would be the exact opposite of blending in with them.

The three of you talk about classes; Aubrey is still less _motivated_ , to say the least, towards her studies, unlike before when you couldn't tear the girl away from her book unless you wanted a black eye. Stacie only talks about the bikini she plans on wearing to the rush and which _yummy_ boy toy she plans on seducing later, which you felt like you heard multiple names dropped, but whatever. There's _extra_ talk about boys, extra praising about Gail and Kommissar and it's sick how brainwashed the both of them are to willingly worship your house mothers who are no doubt Satan's long lost cousins.

Ever since Beca snuck through your window and openly _cuddled_ with you, that's right _**cuddled,**_ you haven't really heard from her nor seen her around campus. The only confirmation you got that you still actually existed to the girl was the text she sent you earlier in the morning that said, " _blend in at the rush. Don't do anything risky, do whatever Gail and Kommissar ask you to do and don't get caught."_

It wasn't a good morning text you kind of expected from Beca, especially with the strangely _intimidate_ night you two shared, but at least it was _something_ after sending loads and loads of text messages and getting no response from any of them.

And yeah, okay, _don't get caught_ wasn't the best thing to say to you right before you spend an entire day with your sisters and the risk of getting caught _skyrockets_.

Because now, as you curl your hair to perfection, add a little volume, and pick out your smallest (but still cute) bikini set since the Bellas' rush is themed " _Beach party_ ," (ironic because witches melt in water, unless your whole life has been a lie) you can rightfully admit that you're scared _shitless_ to endure this event.

And to make it even worse Beca isn't replying to any of your text messages, or phone calls and you're a hair pull away from a mental breakdown.

 _Goddammit, Beca!_

Angrily, you toss your phone to land somewhere on your bed-no point of having it since the one person who has your full interest and the only person you want to talk to is purposely ignoring you.

She has her phone; you _know_ she does, which is probably why the fact she isn't paying you any attention feels like your heart is being stabbed and fisted together over a million, tiny needles.

You host the main entrance of the house, sending pledgees to the designated table close by where they hand in their papers, being the " _hype_ _woman_ " of the party, greeting everyone you see with a enthusiastic, bubbly smile that could be mistaken as fake by how animated you sound.

It's a position that you and Aubrey were usually stuck with throughout the years of being a Bella-though you don't exactly know where Aubrey is at the moment- and it wouldn't be that bad if you didn't have to greet _half of America_ as the crowd floods through the doors like wild animals.

Seriously, the turnout is absolutely _incredible_ , as this was expected with all the rumors going around.

Everyone is here; fraternities, the baseball team, the volleyball team, soccer, freshman, sophomores, juniors, both boys and girls, maybe even some facility members are floating around the house somewhere and really, it's kinda hard to believe how many people the Bella house is able to hold-though you think it might be pushing the capacity _a little_ bit.

Not only is the turnout, as well as the amount of pledges the Bellas' already have so far and it's not even noon yet, insane, but you're fairly certain that your sisters bought out every liquor store in the state of Georgia with how much alcohol is being handed out.

If it wasn't for the fact that everyone attending is putting themselves into a whole crap load of danger, your inner, head sister cap would be so proud.

So, _so proud._

But that's not the case here.

Somehow the straps on your bikini top get twisted up at the same time another person walks up to the door and you greet them like normal, except this time your focus is directed down to your swimsuit. "Welcome to the Bellas' rush darty! Adult swim _all_ _day_ long and all the free booze you can imagine! Pledgees, turn in paperwork at the table to your right and everyone else who just wants to have a blast, enjoy your stay!" You chirp in your bubbly, overly excited, Chloe Beale tone and sound a lot like an automatic message from saying this greeting for so long; it's going to be imprinted in your head if not already.

They don't say anything to this, but you're still busy fumbling around with your strap connected to your blue and white, pin stripes bathing suit, a tug away from flashing everyone with how small the top is. But today is all about the _cleavage_ , all about flaunting _the goods,_ and you can admit first hand that the tightness from your oldest owned bathing suit is for sure amplifying your chest to the _max_.

"Red."

The group-or should you say one person in particular-finally speaks up and all of a sudden, you could give a _hoot_ about your swimsuit top because you _know_ that voice.

It's the same voice that has been ignoring you for _no_ _apparent_ _reason_ and it's this conclusion that tears your eyes away from your top, transforming them into your most intimidating stare you could muster up to glare at Beca. You want her to know that _yes_ , you're happy to see her in person, but you're also very irritated at her.

There was no reason, whatsoever, for the ignored calls and messages.

When you look up to see Beca, it now only processes to you as to why the Hell is she here right now. You fully expect to see the usual black leather and matching colored outfit, but what you get is short, _very short_ white jean shorts, a black bikini top, the familiar sunglasses, her hair falling wavy in a crimp form and a white bandana tied up around her head.

"Beca?" You gasp while your eyes try to process how different she looks from her normal, daily attire, but different in a good way. No, scratch that-a _great_ way. "I'm surprised you own shorts and shorts that aren't the color black," you joke teasingly, eyes still scanning over Beca's outfit and how well she fits in with everyone. You barely even recognized her, to be honest, and was _definitely_ joking when you told her to pledge a while back because you knew Beca as a Bella was similar to pigs flying.

"I had to dig pretty deep," she jokes back, but without even _hinting_ a smile this time. Her face is blank from what you can see under her glasses, voice is monotone and overall, she's the opposite person from whom you spent the night with a couple days ago and more like the emotionless, asshole you met at first. "How are you doing?"

Once you get over the fact that Beca looks _mind numbing_ attractive right now showing off the pale, toned skin,-though her leather jacket, ripped skinny jeans and v-neck t-shirt are a scary amount of hot- you tear your eyes away from her body, cocking your jaw to the side in a ' _oh no she didn't_ ' way.

"Wouldn't you like know?" you snap and cross your arms over your chest-sweet, chipper Chloe gone and replaced with pissed off, sassy Chloe. "Maybe if you stopped avoiding me like the plague you'd know that I'm _miserable_."

"Chloe, I-"

"No, don't speak," you cut her off quickly before she can even get a thought out, finger muting anything she has to say. You look around the front yard to make sure everyone is lost in their own little worlds and it's safe to have this conversation with Beca without someone noticing. "First, you make me ditch class and go with you to some _serial killer_ bar. Then, you give me a record and take me to get coffee that we never finished because you shot an innocent guy with a tranquilizer dart-"

" _Not innocent_. I saw the way he was looking at you, or should I say…" it's Beca's turn to cut you off mid rant, her eyes slowly descending down your frame like she did majority of the time spent with her on Thursday, (though it has no effect on you this time) and you get the hint she's implying here. " _Undressing_ you."

Still, it doesn't make a difference, even though you savor the hidden jealousy Beca is covering up pretty well. Whether Tom was undressing you or not-which you know he was because you think you made eye contact with him a total of _two_ times during that conversation- it still isn't okay to shoot people and then clam up.

"As I was saying," you squint your eyes to Beca, hoping she gets your drift that you're not in the mood. "You take me to get coffee, then to have a nice breakfast, which was the most fun I've ever had in my entire life and _then_ you sneak into my room, hold me until I fall asleep and it's wonderful. Then you ignore me? As if I don't exist? What the actual _Hell_?" You hiss this last part as a whisper compared to the first part, the way your voice raised defensively in volume was uncontrollable.

It's when you can _tell_ Beca isn't really paying attention to your little rant and is secretly looking anywhere except at your sharp glare underneath her glasses that tips you off the edge with rage. The kettle is smoking, brewing up quite the mouthful you're about to pour out and Beca doesn't know what she has in store for her.

"Are you _joking_ , Beca?! You're not even listening to me! What's more important, huh? Seemed like I was pretty important two days ago when I _knew_ for a fact you wanted to kiss me." This in specific catches Beca's attention and you see her raise up an eyebrow over her glasses, showing that her face can actually _express_ something other than a deadpan, poker face.

For the most part, however, the eyebrow is the only brief confirmation that she is listening to you before her attention is drawn somewhere else again.

Rage coming back ten times hotter, "seriously, Beca! What the Hell is wrong with you? Is it me? Did I do something? Actually no, I _didn't_ do anything wrong...or at least I hope so… but I would've known that if you talked to me like a normal person-"

"I gotta go," is all Beca says when cutting you off for the third time, sweeping right pass you and your gaping mouth at the _nerve_ this girl has, darting and vanishing through the front doors faster than you can even respond.

You want to scream at the top of your lungs until you pop a vessel, not caring that all of America could hear you. You want to punch something multiple times, and _hard._ You want topunch whatever it is that you choose harder than you've ever hit something before in your life.

You also want to cry because it hurts being pushed off to the side and you hate the feeling. It's even worse when Beca; a girl you're head over heels for does this to you, obviously making it clear that maybe the feelings aren't mutual.

But then again, you **know** she wanted to kiss you that night. You could sense it, feel the tingling on your lips and you'd bet your life that she was staring at your lips a few times but wasn't able to catch this because of the darkness.

 _Ughhhhh_!

Instead of screaming, you pull at your hair with your hands that looks _somewhat_ like normal behavior, and not that you're seconds away from exploding with anger. Why is she the most frustrating person you have ever met? _Jesus_ , she's making you break out from all this unwanted stress.

 _Asshole_.

* * *

An hour goes by and you've ditched the duty of being door greeter, half because you were starting to get bored of saying the same thing over and over again, the other half because you need alcohol _pronto_ after dealing with Beca and seeing her around the house every step you took like she was your goddamn shadow.

Seems like she could stalk you but not even text back.

 _Hmm, strange._

For the most part, you ignore the unpleasant emotions Beca has brought to your body, _destroying_ your bright, ecstatic mood from before you talked to her and enjoy the rush as best as you can. There's people everywhere and seems to only be getting busier with more people arriving. Majority of the party is in the backyard of the Bellas' house, next to the bar, DJ table, jacuzzi and swimming pool.

It's where you're currently at, standing next to the bar with a red solo cup filled with pineapple juice and 151 Rum, hoping to drown out your poisonous thoughts all having to deal with Beca. Surprisingly, it's only your first drink at the darty (day party). The taste of alcohol is still something to get use to and honestly, you don't want to get _belligerent drunk_ because of stupid Beca and her stupid attractive face that makes it impossible not to think about.

Also, Bellas aren't drinking because of the whole rum deal, so you have sneak dumping the alcohol into your drink before anyone catches.

You want to have fun, but then you remember when your eyes get a handful of Aubrey making out with hunk number one, then Stacie smothering two twin hunks with her boobs.

Or when you saw Sindy and Terra, the girls who went missing, then appeared out of nowhere like no big deal dance provocatively with two guys from the baseball team and, that's right, they're the babies in a scary witch cult, and then you think of Beca.

You try being friendly to Gail and Kommissar who are monitoring the rush, handing out succubus rum in tiny shot glass, you blending in just like you were told to do so, but then remember that they're the _leaders_ of this said witch cult, and you think of Beca.

You chat the whole time with Tom once he finds you through the large crowd of students, like he made it a personal goal the moment he arrived to corner you at the bar and you are unaffected by his flirting other girls would call _charming_ , but you dance with him to the music anyways.

And it makes it seem like you're actually the _smallest_ _fraction_ interested in the boy when surrounded by your sisters and house mothers who are watching you like hawks.

You want to enjoy his presence-except how he keeps touching your hip to pull you in closer when you guys talk, as if you weren't already close enough by the strong beer smell you get radiating out of his mouth- but then you remember by the impressively large bruise he's sporting on his cheek bone that he passed out on top of your coffee mug the other day due to a dart to the neck, and then you think about Beca, **again**.

 _Everything_ revolves right back to Beca and this is why you're finding it impossible to think about anything else, literally _anything_ in the whole world besides the freshman.

"We should totally go out to dinner sometime," Tom, with his usual cocky grin plastered on his face, brighter than the sun in the sky and his _fluorescent_ orange swim trunks he has on suggests, his cool way of asking you out on a date.

You hear it loud and clear, even with the music blaring around you and the partial blindness you got from his ridiculous colored trunks. You know you want to decline the offer, nothing personal against him, but the two of you just don't click.

But someone else has gained your full attention at the party and it shouldn't be a surprise that this person, standing from afar and playing undercover _witch hunter_ is Beca Mitchell.

From the start of the rush, Beca has been on you like glue, but in the way where she's secretive about it. She doesn't talk to you since your last conversation at the beginning and you don't talk to her, making a statement that if she's wants to ignore you, fine, but you can ignore her, too.

And that's exactly what you do when you catch her staring at you and Tom from where she's standing next to the jacuzzi, the burning from her eyes can be felt on your skin like hot rocks and the red solo cup being clenched between her hand.

Remembering that Tom asked you a question that you have yet to answer and purposely curving up the largest, _flirtiest_ grin you can muster, "I would like that _a lot_ ," you lie straight to his face because you wouldn't like it at all; the thought of a going on a date with him is unsettling, but Beca right over there, watching the two of you with invisible smoke blowing out of her ears like she could hear every last word is a great way to pay someone back than to _evilly_ stir up the jealously pot.

"Seriously?" Tom is truly surprised by your answer by the way his hand jumps up to the back of his neck, nervously rubbing the area and it kinda makes you feel bad that, sadly, you're emotionally incapable to have any feelings towards anyone else because you're strung up on a girl who kills witches and plays hard to get. "I-I… didn't," he chuckles awkwardly and finds intense fascination at the ground while you're thrown for a loop at how you, Chloe Beale, are able to turn Barden's, first string quarterback into a big, shy, puddle of stutters. "I didn't actually think you'd say _yes_."

You arch a brow up curiously, unable to tell if you should be offended by this. Just because you haven't dated anybody for a while, let alone talked to anyone in _that_ way doesn't make you a heartless monster.

"You didn't think I'd say... _yes_?" you echo his previous statement incredulously.

"You're _Chloe Beale_ , the smoking _hot_ head sister for the most popular sorority in the southern region." It's not the most flattering compliment, not that you should've expected anything else to come from a young boy's mouth, especially since you're talking to him in a bikini-the _smallest_ owned bikini.

Taking a glance over to where Beca is standing, you notice that she isn't there anymore. Disappointed at first and slightly concerned as to where she could've gone, you switch your focus back over to Tom, trying not push aside the feelings circulating around the thought of Beca.

You shrug innocently and your hand sweeps up to your hair, pushing it back behind your ear. "I'm nothing special," you giggle sweetly.

"I beg to differ."

Tom doesn't say this, nor does he even get the chance to stop you from being yanked away by the person who dropped their response into the conversation you and Tom were having.

You're startled by the sudden hand gripping your bicep, unprepared and _slightly_ worried your arm might fall off from how hard this person is pulling at it. It takes a couple steps of being pulled in tow through the crowd and weaved over to a secluded area in the backyard behind the shed that you realize your driver is Beca.

When you guys make it to the destination away from everyone that Beca _apparently_ had planned for you two to talk, you forcefully snatch your arm out of her grip and the familiar anger towards the girl bubbles up faster than you can prepare for it.

"What the Hell, Beca?!" you bark loudly this time now that you guys are at a place where _nobody_ would ever go, unless they wanted a lawn mower, or a shovel to dig a hole. "What is wrong with you, _seriously_?!"

Beca's face is neutral, not angry, not jealous, not sad, or happy. "You're _so_ special, Chloe, don't ever say that you aren't."

For a second, your heart flutters uncontrollably and you can't ignore the warm feeling inside your stomach, no thanks to the way Beca is looking at you like you're the one only left in the world. As hard as it is, though, you push this feeling away at the memories of all the crap Beca has put you through in the last forty eight hours.

"You can't do this, Beca, the constant back and forth mood swings; it's giving me _major_ whiplash," your voice starts off easy, not too harsh, but not too gentle either. Firm and serious. "You can't…drop compliments like that and then ignore me right after. I know you know that I have a _pathetic_ plethora of feelings and attraction towards you because I make it pretty obvious. I want you to know that you drive me absolutely _**crazy,**_ but in the best way possible, and it hurts really _freaking_ bad to know that you'll never feel the same way and then I get ignored and those _sucky_ feelings get even more _sucky_ and I just-"

For the _fourth_ time today, you're cut off by Beca.

This time, however, you're cut off not by her words, but by her lips pressing aggressively into yours, erasing all the words you had stored up to say to her and actually, erasing _any_ cognitive thought you had, turning your brain into straight _mush_. There was no warning; one moment your mouth was busy and filled with words you had planned to say, the next moment your mouth is being filled by Beca's tongue.

All of it took you off guard and all the kissing is _a_ _lot_ to handle right now. Changing subjects, however, you so totally knew Beca would be a good kisser. A **great** kisser, _my apologies;_ she just had that front about her that screamed " _I'm really good at everything,"_ and, well, she most definitely hasn't given you any reason to believe she _isn't_ terrific at anything.

Especially now.

Lips molded together, Beca pushes you into the outside of the shed, your back hitting the wall equally as aggressive as the initial impact of the kiss. You hear her hands slam to either side of your face until one moves to cup your jaw, your whole body is experiencing a _gut_ _wrenching_ jolt of electricity to make your knees jelly, fingers tingly and your hair to stand up at the back of your neck.

It's takes a moment after the initial wave of shock passes by and you can admit to yourself that, yes, this is really happening; Beca is kissing you and is kissing you _hard, a_ nd when you process this, you can finally kiss her back like you've been _dying_ to do since the first shared ' _hellos_.'

Your hands find her hips once you're able to move your limbs, nails dig into the skin at her lower back when she boldly slides her tongue pass your lips, teeth, then presses it to yours.

 _Oh wow._

She is actually doing that right now and _oh_! Alright this is happening. Now, she's biting your lip, okay, cool. No big deal. Just a normal day _porn style_ kissing the hottest person on Earth that you happen to have a _raging_ toner for, in the words of past Aubrey Posen.

 _Act_ _natural Beale. Don't you dare screw this up._

"Bec…" you breathe in between kisses, voice raspy, head dizzy and the possibility of fainting higher than it's ever been before.

Beca doesn't even acknowledge the fact that you're trying to speak and sucks at your bottom lip in a way that makes you forget your own name and how to breathe properly.

 _Holy shit._

 _This woman is too sexy._

"Bec...hold on," you try again since the first time she sucked the words out right from your mouth, _literally_.

After one last savory suck to your bottom lip, Beca allows you the space to catch your breath and all your senses back. You rest the back of your head on the wall of the shed with your chest heaving for air, lips pleasantly swollen and eyes remaining closed, but you could still see the sky spinning through your eyelids.

With the all access pass to your exposed neck, Beca takes the invitation faster than you can cope, her lips not done moving quite yet and finds another place for them.

Cracking your eyes open, head and clouds in the sky still spinning like an amusement park ride, she peppers kisses up and down your jawline, occasionally dropping longer, _lingering_ kisses at the base of your throat where you're positive she can feel your pulse seconds away from breaking skin at how hard it's throbbing. Your jaw hangs slack at the sensation, vision still sorta blurry, body seconds away from giving out and you're still definitely _dazed_ out of your mind from the kiss.

The kiss.

Holy crap times _a hundred_ , you kissed Beca.

Actually, Beca _**kissed**_ you, but still.

It's so surreal and happened so out of the blue, but her lips were on yours (still on your body, as a matter of fact) your hands were at her hips and you were clawing at the skin above the top of her shorts.

And your _tongues._

Goodness, are you even allowed to go into depth with what Beca's tongue was doing to yours just moments ago ?

"We should talk," you gasp this out shaky, Beca's lips still affecting how your voice comes out, and though you want to do _anything_ besides talk, preferably get back to where you and Beca were headed at before you lost yourself in the sudden, _heated_ make out session, discussing what...all _this_ means is a dire need.

But Beca's lips are at your throat in a way that rolls your eyes to the back of your skull, her hands caging your head against the shed and her intoxicatingly _different_ scent of vanilla, maybe, is all just too much to handle, let alone have a _goddamn_ _conversation_.

"Then lets talk," comes Beca's deep, muffled reply as her lips mold to the skin on your throat, making no effort to stop their actions and continues nipping, sucking, licking and tearing the little bit of your sanity left to function to shreds, like she already knows where and _how_ your body reacts to certain things.

Especially how your body _trembles_ unintentionally when she licks that small spot just under your ear.

"What do you want to talk about, _hmm_?" Beca's hums vibrate your skin under your ear where most her attention is drawn to once she finds out how much you enjoy her lips there and your stomach tightens into a boy's scout knot, whole body on _fire_.

You know Beca says this on purpose; you can feel her smug smirk spreading across your skin and how her kisses only become more forceful when you let out an audible gasp for her to feed off of.

It might've even been a moan, if you're being completely honest, because with how Beca's lips are sucking on your skin, the feeling is _beyond_ delightful.

Your right cheek falls weakly to one of Beca's wrists on either side of your head at the sensation before you've given up completely. "You know what, _fuck_ _it_ ," you announce all of a sudden, hearing Beca rumble a chuckle against your throat before you grab her by the neck, reel her back up to your face and smash your lips into her's, moans and breathy grunts mixing together perfectly.

Removing her hands from the shed on either side of your face, she wastes no time to lift one of your legs up to the side of her hip, hand remaining underneath your thigh and keeps your leg in place, which, you think, _catapults_ you over dangerous territory now that Beca's front is _definitely_ pressing up against your lady bits in an uncomfortably pleasant way.

And the lack of clothing separating the heat transferred from the two of you isn't helping one bit.

You lock and dig the back of your heel into Beca's back and your hands cage her face into the kiss; a kiss so feverish and rough and _by_ _far_ going above and beyond all your other kisses in the past, this one, hands down, earning the spot of being your **best** kiss. It's the most _intense_ , definitely, but perhaps that's the reason why you've only just got a taste a second ago, now all of a sudden you _crave_ Beca's lips like a hardcore drug.

You kiss her with everything you got and then some, your moans slip shaky pass her lips, your tongue slides _violently_ across hers, all while you rock your lower region into her front, desperate for at least _some_ kind of friction to settle the bubbling, heat pooling in your lower gut. You've waited _way_ too long for this. Everything else other than Beca's lips and her touches can wait- _talking_ can wait, not that you could get a word out even if you tried.

* * *

 ***gasp***

 **I promise no more novel chapters like the last two; I might've gotten a bit carried away ;)**


	10. Chapter 10

**THE HYPE FROM LAST CHAPTER….OMG. I can NOT with some of your comments; I was laughing so hard! To all the guests that I wasn't able to respond back to, I appreciate you, you all are beautiful and yes, lots of us wanna see Beca Mitchell bone the living daylights out of Chloe (Pound it Beca Effin' Mitchell LOL) maybe it will happen, maybe it won't, who knows ;) I also wanted to split this chap into two, but since you guys like the novel chapters, I present you with a 20,000 word chapter ;)**

 **I MADE A SPOTIFY PLAYLIST!**

 **Under** **SATF** **, follow it!**

 **(I DO NOT OWN PITCH PERFECT NOR THE SONGS MENTIONED)**

* * *

 **Chapter Ten: I Can't Fight This Feeling**

You have came to a rather _hasty_ conclusion that is certain to be _indisputable._

Kissing Beca Mitchell has undoubtedly, within minutes, become your all time favorite thing to do, like, _ever_ , and you see nothing in the near future taking its place. Basically, it's a permanent sensation you get when your lips touch that you wouldn't mind, nor would complain even the slightest bit if you felt this way for the rest of your life.

Out of all the other past lovers, flings, and sudden hook ups, Beca Mitchell is a _phenomenal_ kisser and even then the word is just an understatement. No doubt is she the best kisser you've attached lips with; she's rough when she kisses-boy is she **rough** , but she's also sweet and tender, kinda like a sour patch kid-which _yum_.

Just like Beca and her soft, juicy lips that taste like beer, strawberries and _heaven_ all in one stroke.

Talk about _delightful._

She's also very touchy, you notice when her hands grip at your waist and her nails claw at your skin, but then her touches ease up to almost a graze with her fingertips, along your collarbone, up your neck and across your jaw while her mouth continues to assault your own brutally. Majority of the kiss, your bottom lip is trapped between Beca's teeth and it's knee chattering, lungs stopping, heavy breathing _erotic._

How you're still functioning is a Scooby Doo mystery they wouldn't even be able to solve, because _holy_ _crap,_ Beca might just kiss the living life out of you, which wouldn't be too out of the ordinary since she already has a good grasp at your sanity.

Hands search out for anywhere to grab on Beca until they land frantically in her hair, knotting the lusciously soft locks in two strong fists while her's roam your entire, half nude frame, leaving your skin to burn underneath her fingertips where they once were like they were tiny little hot plates.

At first, your body experienced a series of temperatures; chills and goosebumps from the initial kiss, shock from the way your body would react to Beca's tongue moving so expertly through your mouth and over your lips, raising _every_ hair up on your skin, and now, your whole body is _scorching_ hot, begging for some type of release and being denied of it with what you're wearing and where Beca's hands _aren't_.

And honestly, you've never been this close to coming undone by just _kissing_ that Beca should be very proud of herself for riling you up so fast in such little time.

Actually, you've never been this close to coming undone _period_ , but let's not talk about that.

" _God_ , Beca," you moan desperately into the kiss over the freshman's mouth, heavy breathing taking up most your energy for the words to come out solid. You hear, as well as _feel_ Beca's low, guttural chuckle vibrate against your lips before her chuckle morphs into a hungry growl, snagging your probably _very_ swollen bottom lip between her teeth, hands moving up your stomach to very dangerous territory.

You clench your stomach muscles underneath her touch, trying not to pass out from where her hand-the one that isn't holding up your leg to cage around her waist- is headed for. A thumb grazes just the bottom of your bikini top, right above your heart that's seconds away from bursting from your chest, just under the curve of your breast and that same sensation you felt just then is the main cause for turning your other leg holding you upright against the shed to straight _jelly_. Kneecaps buckle at the touch, and you would've collapsed into the ground if it wasn't for that same hand getting bold around your chest grabbing your collapsing leg under your knee, pulling it up to hook around her hip to join the other one in the air.

And, okay, _Jesus Christ_.

You knew Beca was incredibly strong from personal experience, but her holding you up like this so you're able to straddle her front, giving her all the space to grind her hips between your legs, now that's impressive.

And also very, _**very**_ sexy.

Pretty much the _sexiest_ make out position you ever found yourself in.

You cling your arms around Beca's neck now that your legs aren't keeping you stable anymore, returning the kiss with a few tricks up your sleeve that you suddenly feel brave enough to test out. You lick and nip any chance you get, gaining the faintest bit of control in the make out before Beca takes back the wheel, driving you straight into a bush filled with ragged breathing and heavy pants.

Beca stretches out your lip, snapping it back in place before diving in for another kiss; one slow, more tender than the rest of them have been and then her lips reroute once she gets a good taste, trailing light kisses down your chin, across your jaw, and lingering a little longer on the base of your throat. Instantly, the lower part of your stomach coils into a knot and you have to rest your chin over the side of her head due to the sudden lightheadedness.

" _Fuck_ ," you breathe a shaky moan into her ear; your body is on straight _fire_ right now to the point where it's becoming unbearable to sit through without feeling something else. Feeling something _more_.

"You saying shit like that in my ear is making it very hard not to take you right here," Beca speaks for the first time in what feels like years, her voice is all sorts of gravelly and disintegrating panties _low_ -which then only makes her sexier-and you find the burning in your stomach _excruciating_.

With one of her hands underneath your thigh, she directs it farther up your leg until her palm is filled with new territory and she's groping your backside _tightly_ , sending a new wave of arousal to hit you like a bag of bricks.

"But I'm a lady and think we should stop."

Your eyes snap open like you've been resurrected back from the dead.

 _No no no._

 _No no no no!_

Stopping is the _last_ thing you want to do right now. Beca's between your legs, sucking at your throat with a purpose, teetering you off the edge each lick and you have this rhythmic grind rubbing against her front that is helping to ease you off the edge. There are places on your body that are _throbbing_ with the need to be touched, the kissing is far too enjoyable for words and you know what, _fuck_ the rush right now.

Fuck the party.

Fuck the witches.

Fuck _everything_.

Now that you've gotten a taste, you want Beca all to yourself and stopping _now,_ after what your body is experiencing, is just impossible.

And just plain out _malicious_ , if you're being honest-which you completely are.

You can feel Beca's smirk stretching across the skin she's basically trying to suck the blood out of; you wouldn't be surprised if your already had a nasty bruise glowing on your neck the size of China, nor would you try to hide it either. Instead you'd flaunt it like a trophy, or a noble prize or a winning lottery ticket, like, _Hell yeah I just had a super hot make out session with Barden's hottest student who happens to also be a witch hunter and super successful._

 _Be jealous._

Beca gives your bottom a harsh grope before she's gently easing your legs back down onto the ground; you have to grab at her shoulders not to faint because, yes, kissing Beca Mitchell might possibly be the death of you.

Stable and clearly disappointed at the fact that there isn't anymore kissing being done and- _preferably_ \- more than that, you cock a suspicious glance at Beca, looking at her sideways and trying not to tip over from the dizziness.

She's a whole other level of attractive that should be considered illegal for everyone's-mostly yours- sakes; her eyes are basically **black** from her dilated pupils, her lips are swollen, cheeks are flushed with pinks and red, and her hair is flipped all crazy in the sexiest way possible and _good_ _**God,**_ it's taking everything in your body not to attack this girl right here, right now.

 _What the Hell has gotten into you, Beale?_

"Look," Beca starts before you get the chance to say anything about halting the kissing and her face falls down to the ground immediately and the explicit amount of happiness you are feeling this moment drains out from your body, starting at the curves pointed up on your lips and flipping upside down. Starting off any conversation with ' _look_ ' is destined for bad news, plain and simple.

"I like you a crazy amount," she declares, not a hitch in her voice, which makes you feel kind of more at ease, but you know there's more.

There has to be a " _but,"_ somewhere down this road. You are positive it's coming sooner than later, so you already try to prepare for the major heart cramps and quite possibly tears. Maybe even some anger will come out of the news.

But as you prepare to get your heartbroken by the most _confusing_ person you have ever met, the " _but_ ," never comes, even after several moments of you and Beca just staring at each other, it doesn't even slip.

"But?" You bring about the conflict yourself, unable to handle standing through the torture with how long it's taking Beca to get to the point of why the two of you _aren't_ perfect for each other. She's grungy, moody, and pissy all the time. You are a bag of sunshine, bubbly, energetic and sweet as sugar.

The two of you are _destined_ to be together, couple _goals_ , as a matter of fact, so it's infuriating to not understand how Beca can't see that you two would be amazing together. Killing witches while on the side you two make out in her super sexy car, listening to some Def Leppard in the background underneath the stars in the middle of nowhere.

Shooting guns at random objects without a care to the world and getting in bar fights; it's pretty much fate. If that's not the most romantic future you guys have ever heard, then you don't know what is.

Beca quirks an eyebrow up at your choice of word, confused. "But _what_?" she drawls out her words, confusion laced within them.

Now you're the one thrown for a loop. "You like me a crazy amount _but,"_ you try to use the ' _fill in the blank'_ game with Beca because she still is radiating confusion with what you're talking about. "There has to be a reason why we can't continue this whole... _sexy kissing_ behind sheds thing and why you're stopping"

"There's not a but," Beca states, blank in the face with zero emotion, but your increasing confusion causes a miniature smirk of hers to peek out at one corner of her mouth. "I like you a crazy amount, _period_."

You shake your head in attempt to process all of this. "Wh-what...I just…don't... _what_?" Look at you being number one in the speechless department. Can't say you missed the inability to form human sentences, that's for sure.

Beca closes the distance between you two again without a _verbal_ answer to your sputters of just vowels. _Physical_ answers seems to be more her style, not that you're complaining because even though it's only been literally _seconds_ since you guys last kissed, you can already rightfully admit her lips, pressed nicely against yours, was gratefully missed.

By far, the kiss is a lot slower than what you two engaged in previously; your lips move perfectly in sync with hers, there's no sloppiness, bites or mindless groping to any body parts. Her hands are gently placed over your ribcage; yours are around her neck, locking her face in place while you two exchange long, lingering strokes of your tongues into each other's mouths.

" _God_ , I fucking like you a lot," Beca kisses are soft, but her words come out powerful, almost like a growl and it coils your insides to hear this confession, because, like, feelings are _so_ _totally_ mutual she has no freaking idea. " _But_ , since you insisted, we have to go kidnap your friend."

Even though it's a continuation to what she said, a "but" that usually means bad news, this time it doesn't break your heart into a million tiny pieces. Perhaps, maybe, it broke your _vagina's_ heart, if it were to have one, but your heart is still up and beating a mile a second, inflated to a maximum size and filled to the brim with happiness.

She's out of your grip before you can even register that the kiss has stopped, your eyes remain closed, body still lost in cloud nine, hands now only cupping the air where Beca's face once was and hormones still short circuiting yourself into _insanity_.

When you do open your eyes, you see that's she's walking away and it takes a moment of getting movement back into your legs and snapping out of your post make out trance, but eventually, you follow her, grabbing at her shoulder to turn her around before you two make it back out to the party that's now in full blast.

"You're seriously doing this to me?" Now that you're facing Beca you see her eyebrows scrunch together, not fully understanding what you mean. " _Kiss_ me better than I've ever been kissed in my whole _entire_ life, admit to having feelings for me, touch my _butt_ the way you did and just leave?!" You're a different type of frustrated compared to what you were with Beca a couple hours ago. _Sexually_ _frustrated_ would be a perfect explanation why you're red in the face this time around and yelling at the girl for the third time today.

Beca doesn't flinch by the raise in your voice; if anything, she's amused by it under that dirty smirk of hers she has planted on her face, and it's quite distracting to get your point across.

You take your finger and jab it into Beca's shoulder every other word. "I'm so freaking _turned_ _on_ right now that it basically feels like I just jumped in the hot tub and it's all _your_ fault!" You don't even bat an eyelash at what you just upright admitted, half because the statement is very, _very_ true if the throbbing between your thighs has anything to do with it and half because your hormones are fogging up your brain with what to say and what _not_ to say, allowing everything regardless of how personal they are to come pouring out your mouth like a TMI waterfall of word vomit.

You think Beca's eyes darken even more by your confession, but it doesn't look like she's doing anything about it and it only makes the uncomfortable heat more unbearable.

"As much as I'd like to take care of that for you," she throws you a flirty wink on top of her crooked smile after her eyes descend down to your bikini bottoms, the whole mixture enough to make you hyperventilate. "And I _really_ do, but we gotta go." She goes right back to walking away from you again, except this time all you can do is follow in tow, much to your dismay.

You release a frustrating huff of air before taking off, fixing your hair and _really_ wishing you had a mirror to check for how swollen your lips are, making it clear what you just spent the last fifteen minutes doing and if you have any marks-which you know you probably do.

"You're such a tease," you grumble as you tug along behind Beca, hanging your head defeated and she just chuckles like she planned for this to happen to you.

Jerk.

As embarrassing as it sounds, walking is also a challenge that is embarrassingly noticeable, no thanks to Beca and the way she touched you moments ago that created an overwhelming pulse between your legs.

 **Jesus**.

Who is this girl and how the Hell is she able to affect you so much by a simple kiss to make you feel like you've never felt before?

 **Never** felt before.

As much as you want to have your best friend back to her normal, controlling self, the fact that Aubrey is unknowingly the main reason why you and Beca aren't making out anymore makes you want to...to _uh_...well...you don't know _exactly_ what it makes you want to do, but you know it's something _crazy_ because you _need_ to kiss Beca again.

"I can't believe I just got blue balled by my best friend and she's not even here," you grumble out irritated as you sweep past Beca, but as you step in front of her, a hand grabs at your wrist, stopping you dead in your tracks and she's pulling you in close to her again.

Her hands land at either side of your hips and she's looking intently at you, like she's trying to solve a mystery within your eyes and it's not a shock you melt.

And blush.

And whimper

And die pretty much.

"Listen. I'm overwhelmingly attracted to you and it's terrifying-and I kill fucking _witches_ for a living." You snicker at this and allow your forehead to fall over hers. "No matter how hard I tried to convince myself not to get wrapped up in a romance, you came along and _God_ , that plan went right out the window real _quick_ ," Beca snorts, the thumbs on your hips start sweeping across your skin like windshield wipers and she feathers a kiss at the corner of your mouth. "I like you, you like me, _cool_. I'm not going to ignore, avoid or deny my obvious feelings towards you because doing so would be pointless. So, now that you know I'm not going anywhere, can we go get your friend?"

Pushing the swarm of butterflies away, you lift your forehead away from hers and connect your hands with hers, lacing each finger together. "Promise we will talk?" You ease up a bit and the frustration starts to dwindle down. Same with the sudden spur of horniess that has washed over you.

Beca curves up a small smile, leaning in closer to whisper until your lips ghost over each other.

"I promise."

And it's the most sincere statement that you've ever heard come out from Beca's mouth; there's no sarcasm, eye rolls and witty retorts hiding her emotions and you believe her.

But you also want one last thing from her to seal the deal.

"Prove it to me," you whisper over her lips, her breathing mixing perfectly with your words.

She opens her mouth like she's going to kiss you, so you chase, but she pulls away, teasing you by flicking her lips just faintly over yours before you can kiss her.

"You, Chloe Beale, are _irresistible_ ," Beca purs over your lips in that same low voice. This whole teasing thing is incredibly hot, don't get you wrong. Same with the usage of your full name, but the most annoying thing to go through.

You just want to kiss her, _dammit_!

"I'm also very _horny_ , which is a new...feeling to experience, can't say I enjoy it, so the least you can do is kiss me one last time." You don't give Beca the time of day to respond to this and take your hands to pull at either side of her face, slamming your lips together mid way through her chuckles. Teeth clank together in the most unattractive way possible, but it's just amazing as the first time nonetheless.

Kissing Beca is definitely something you can get use to doing.

* * *

Eventually, you two make it back to the party that has tripled in size with all the guests flooding the Bellas' house. In between heavy kisses, Beca explains that you needed to go scout out Aubrey, because most likely, Gail and Kommissar have put something into the guy's she is talking to drink, which will end up with him passed out lifeless somewhere, probably the woods.

And if you two are able to follow the couple, not only will you kidnap Aubrey without drawing attention, you'll also find the location for nest Gail and Kommissar are planning on keeping their prey.

The worst part of this plan is the fact that Beca, even though she doesn't want to-which is like super cute that she is so jealous- is that you have to continue talking to Tom since most likely he drank what Aubrey's boy toy drank since, _obviously_ , you're trying to rope him into a giant witch spell where he'd be slaughtered to death.

Okay, maybe not to that _extent_ , but it's possible.

You tell Beca you don't want anything to do with Tom that you only want her and _her_ only and she kisses you again to shut you up. She repeats her orders, this time earning a different response from you by the after effect daze you fall into whenever you separate from Beca's lips.

You honestly think Beca could tell you to jump off a bridge with an ocean full of sharks and you'd do it immediately after she just got done kissing you.

After separating from Beca with a few more stolen kisses (the girl doesn't know how addicting she truly is,) you go on a hunt for Tom against your will, inwardly cursing to yourself because talking to the boy is the _last_ thing you want to do right now. You find him by the bar in the same place where the two of you were talking before Beca rudely interrupted, but her tongue skills made up for it real quick.

He's chatting with a few other frat guys in similar, high lighter colored swim trunks, all equally blinding to the point where you have to squint to talk to them. He doesn't seem too thrown off by you getting pulled away by Beca mid conversation to go make out like dirty teenagers behind a beat up shed in the back yard for the last thirty minutes.

At your arrival, you're greeted with his signature cocky grin, maybe a little more sloppier and less charming than his usual smile thanks to the alcohol, but it's still there and it's still...you don't have another word for it, but just know that's it's _there_.

He slings an arm over your shoulders, pulling you in for an awkward side hug and with a good view of the inside of his red solo cup, you notice a _foul_ odor radiating from the brownish, green liquid caught inside and only two names come to mind as to where he retrieved this drink from.

"Where'd you go?" Tom slurs a mouthful of rotten stench, swinging you back and forth in the hug like a damn rag doll. He smells like chlorine, cologne and _death_ at all once. "One second we were talking and the next...some short girl was pulling you away."

You squint at his description of Beca; you're the only one who is allowed to call her short and get away with it. "Her name is _Beca_ and she just needed me to help with some girl puking in our bushes," you quickly make up an excuse, waving your hand to blow away the conversation. Any more talk about Beca, who you _should_ be with instead of chatting with Mr. Prince Charming is going to drive you absolutely _insane._

You were never big on fairy tales, the knight in shining armor deal; you always thought they were a load of bologna anyways, but you loved and watched them anyways.

Tattoos, black leather, and heavy eye make up are more your style to make your heart race and _apparently_ _perspire_ in the more... southern regions.

Tom nods his head in understanding about the excuse to help a Casper puking girl and goes right back to talking with his buddies, but doesn't dare to move his arm off your shoulders. In fact, he reels you in even closer to his frame, as if you're a prize on display.

His stories are pointless so far, but your have to try your hardest and look the slightest bit interested in football, because that's what girls do when they're ' _blending_ _in_.'

Luckily for you, it doesn't take much time before your attention to glued elsewhere around the party and onto someone in particular who isn't shit faced _drunk_ and dancing around like a complete idiots like the rest. Standing in all her mysterious glory by the hot tub is Beca, and even with the distance you can see her smirk glowing and her wondering eyes over your skin eating you _whole_.

You've never experienced a withdrawal from something-better yet, _someone_ in your life, but then here comes Beca, making you experience a lot of things you've never _ever_ felt before and crave even just her presence.

But her lips quirk up in that _killer_ crooked smile and the urge to rip off Tom's arm and kiss it right off her face is something you'd rather be doing. It's even more distracting from far away, which is why you sneak out your cell phone you kept hidden in your bikini top and type up a quick message to send.

 _[Chloe Beale 1:56 PM]: Stop looking at me like that_

From where Beca is standing at by the jacuzzi, you watch her dig through her short's pocket, pulling out her cell phone and starts to type away.

You gnaw at the corner of your phone case until a message is received almost instantly.

 **[Beca Mitchell 1:57 PM]: Like what?**

Feigning innocence?

Clever, Mitchell.

 _[Chloe Beale 1:57 PM]: Like you want to pin me against the nearest wall, kiss me until I can't remember my own name_

You send the message and keep the chat open while you look over to Beca staring down at her phone, an even bigger smirk than before plastered over her face after she types something back and lifts her attention to meet yours.

Lucky for you, Tom and his friends are too busy talking amongst themselves about boring football stuff to even notice the lack of interest coming from your end and how you are too busy staring at your phone and at an _extremely_ sexy human being at the other end of the yard.

A sexy human being who you still have no idea what to consider her as now that you guys are friends and partners, but also friends and partners who _make out?_

 **[Beca Mitchell 1:58 PM]: Red, I want to do a whole lot more than just kiss you right now**

"You good?" Tom asks, causing you to tear your attention off your phone, quickly click your phone off and shove it back into your bikini top where it's been sitting the entire morning. You glance up to him equally frazzled and confused. "You made a weird noise just then," he chuckles awkwardly and you mentally slap yourself.

 _Of_ course you made your whimper to reading Beca's text message audible for everyone to hear when the very _explicit_ images came to mind, all of which you took part in with Beca as a supporting role.

Why wouldn't you?

You open your mouth to say something back-you _planned_ on saying something back, but when you go to talk, nothing comes out. Whether it's because you don't know how to respond to this, or because Beca has certainly just punched you with a ball of heat straight to the gut from a text message.

And she knows it too when you look back over to where she's standing and she's wearing her amusement on her skin, brighter than Tom's construction worker swim trunks.

"Is that a _hickey_?"

You slap a hand at your neck in the exact spot Beca's mouth was attracted to, eyes going wide at the realization that, yes, you're walking around with a hickey on your neck. You slap Tom's pointing finger away and make up another excuse that it was the curling iron, which could be true if it wasn't for the fact it's not exactly _true_.

He's about to say something else about the bruise you're covering up, but you notice Gail and Kommissar a close distance away.

Gail gives you nod over to her general area where she's standing with a tray of drinks and Kommissar on her hip, both still flaunting around the party in black dresses that brings about tons of concerns as to _why_ nobody is questioning that they're wearing this on a hot day in Georgia without a bead of sweat on their ridiculously perfect skin while everyone else is in swimsuits.

 _Jesus_ , it's like they have two big signs on their heads that reads " **witch**."

Maybe the house will fall on them on the way over so you don't have to endure whatever speech they have planned this time.

"I'll be right back," you tell Tom, awkwardly patting his stomach and not really knowing what else to do to announce that you'd rather be stuck in mud than listen to him talk about other dudes in tight spandex pants.

 _Hello_ , you're gay for a reason.

Slowly but surely, you walk over to where the house mothers from Hell are beckoning you, feeling calm and contented on the outside but on the inside, you're flipping the Hell out. The last time you interacted with Gail and Kommissar they used some weird, witchy voodoo crap and lectured you about ruining your appearance for the bait, which, like, _ouch_.

And this time you have a giant hickey on your neck.

Maybe Beca _is_ trying to get you killed.

When you get to them sporting the largest, most unbelievable fake smile you could muster up that hopefully doesn't resemble how terrified you are to even be face to face with them, they hit you with a full, three sixty spin once you hear them speaking full, _actual_ sentences in the farthest thing from _English_.

Maybe it is Latin, or perhaps Russian (which you should know taking that you're in a class revolving around the language) but you aren't too sure, nor do you know how to respond to this when your presence is heard.

Oh how Beca has another thing coming for her if she expects you to pick up another language when you can barely pass your English classes.

"Not today," is all you're hit with and it's from Gail, who doesn't express what _exactly_ she's talking about, but she's looking directly at Tom. "Too much talk around town will create too much attention towards the Bellas, especially since we've got two already."

"Two...what?" You ask skeptically, hoping that speaking in general won't blow your cover, nor bring any attention to your neck where your hand is still covering in the most casual way.

Before they can even answer your question and tell you whether or not you're next on their hit list with something you _should_ already know since, _obviously_ , you're a witch and all who should _know_ these things, a scene breaks out; a rather _violent_ scene involving a super soaker water gun, a guy practically snapped in half and a tiny girl causing the snapping, draws their attention away, along with yours.

And when you see this, especially _who_ it is causing the scene, your mouth plummets to the ground.

"Who is that?" Gail asks, anger in voice rising as her attention is pointed over at the girl who is currently pinning some random guy into the ground with his arm bent inhumanly behind his back, water gun pressed up behind his neck.

It takes a second for you to register that Beca is drawing _way_ too much attention to her undercover alter ego because her martial arts and expert fighting skills is way to sexy to even form a cognitive thought.

But eventually when you snap out of your admiration at the realization that if Beca is caught being here, both of you are _doomed_ , you quickly scout out the best excuse possible.

"I don't know, let me go find out," you say quickly, already on the move to vanish Beca away from the impressive crowd she has drawn to her before she gets herself killed. Everyone is either amused, terrified, laughing, or recording the entire fight and would no doubt be all Barden talks about this weekend and most definitely floating around social media.

" _Mysterious, Tiny, Small Girl Breaks Poor, Innocent Guy In Half at Bellas' House Rush"_

Goodness, you could already see the headlines now.

Making it to Beca, you yank the smaller girl off of the guy she has twisted up like a pretzel, screeching out for dear life in agonizing pain from how his arm is bent and teleports her away from the scene without her actual profile being identified by Gail and Kommissar.

"Beca, what the _Hell_?!" You exclaim once the two of you are out of sight and in the front yard of the Bellas' house. "You get your panties in a wad when I draw too much attention to myself, but it's okay for you to become freaking _Picasso_?!"

"That _fucker_ had it coming for him, Chlo," Beca's excuse shouldn't hit you heavy in the swoon department like it did, but the new nickname is _greatly_ appreciated. And freaking cute as Hell. "He was going around yelling 'wet t-shirt contest' and suddenly I'm being shot by his bitch ass water gun!"

"So you decide to flip into Jackie Chan's long lost sister and break him into two pieces?" you counter, hands on your hips. "Beca, do you know how many students have a black belt in martial arts? How many students that can be registered as a deadly weapon because of this? **Zero**! Nobody except witch hunters do what you just did!"

Beca doesn't budge by this; she is still fuming about the whole water gun thing and not the fact that she just outed herself to a bunch of drunk college kids. "Look at my shirt, it's soaked!"

You glance down at Beca's tank top and can admit it's drenched with what you can only imagine came from the water gun that guy was holding. "Well, looks like payback's a bitch," you shoot playfully with a wiggle to your brows, smirking up a smile that isn't fazed by Beca's furious glare. "If you don't remember I had the same issue earlier, but mine was with my swim bottoms-"

Oh look at that, Beca cuts you off, _again_ , go figure, but this time with a slap to your mouth with her hand, silencing the rest of your words and transforming them into a muffled mess underneath her palm. At first, you're confused, but then a familiar voice rings a bell and you see Aubrey tugging along some inebriated, blonde hunk she's been tied to all party into the back seat of her car before driving away suspiciously.

"Looks like we are going for a ride." Beca removes her hand from your mouth, but replaces it with her own, kissing away any words you had left to say or think, perfectly executing the task of silencing you with her tongue. "Lets go," she orders husky over your lips when you two break apart. "Nice hickey, by the way. I'm super proud of that one."

Honestly, you weren't prepared for the kiss she randomly dropped on you, which threw you into the hazy state you're currently stuck in and you _definitely_ aren't prepare for her to discard her wet tank top up over her head and tosses it mindlessly onto the lawn, leaving her clad in only a black bikini, pale skin, tattoos, scars and lots and _lots_ of back muscles shimmering under the sunlight, which nearly puts you into cardiac arrest.

So, you don't even comment about the bruise on your neck given by her and how shes all smug about making it.

Beca's already quite the distance away from you once you realize that you should follow and jog to catch up, but you regret it instantly when you're at an arm's reach from Beca's toned muscles and very _visible_ cleavage that, hold up, now that you're thinking about it, this the first time you've seen Beca's actual _boobs_.

And **whoa**.

Aren't they a sight for sore eyes.

"By the way, if it was an _actual_ wet t-shirt contest, you'd win by a landslide," you joke with your eyes on the prizes, but you're also not _really_ joking because it's way true. So true it's kinda hard to breathe the longer you look.

Beca glances down where your eyes are glued, which happens to be her chest, and lifts them back up to eye level with a certain sparkle to them. "Good to know," is her smug response once you two make it to her car and she's digging through her trunk to find a spare black shirt, _of_ _course_. "Yours ain't half bad either."

You blush like an idiot when you're rewarded Beca's half smirk over the hood of her car now looking directly at your chest before she's gone and dropping inside.

As usual, Beca slides on her aviators and roars the engine to life. "Now get in. We got your friend to kidnap." Fanning your face to get rid of the obvious pink tint to your cheeks, you get in as well.

This should be interesting.

* * *

Admittedly, following a suspect around undetected who happens to be your former best friend and co-head sister is a whole load of thrilling as it is _terrifying_ , because the high chances of getting caught is very up there.

But, wow, it's so much fun.

Being with Beca, in general, is _thrilling_ , you've come to another quick conclusion. The running red lights, going _way_ above the speed limit, and the ' _I don't give a flying hoot'_ about anybody or anything front she has on when she does all of this without a single care to the world, one hand on the wheel while the other controlling the stick shift and absentmindedly tugging at the strings connected to your heart without even knowing.

And your sanity.

And your hormones.

You're sure you guys could even wait at the doctor's office and she'd somehow make the experience exciting.

She's hot.

 _God_ , this girl is so, _so_ hot.

Like, how is she even _real_?

"Alright, we can't go any further into the forest without being heard," Beca says as she turns off the car, eyes focused on the path where Aubrey's car drove down into the fog filled, creepy as shit forest where last time you were here, you were attacked by witches so, let's just say being back here again isn't really settling, nor was it missed. She reaches behind you into the backseat and grabs her gun; the more impressive one out of the two she frequently carries around.

" _Whoa_!" You stop her from placing the gun in her belt loop on her shorts by grabbing at her wrist, all alarms going off inside your head. "You're not going to hurt Aubrey, are you?"

"As much as I would like to, no I am not," Beca assures in not the most positive way to make you feel better about allowing her to carry a gun while kidnapping your best friend. She's smiling, though, which makes up for the hesitation to allow her to be armed. You think you'd be okay with her doing _anything_ if you get a smile like that every time. "But I have to remind you that Aubrey, especially with where she's at, mentally, is capable of... _a_ _lot_."

You're interested, though you don't know if it's out of fear or curiosity. Probably both but more fear than anything else. "Is she... _dangerous_?" You gulp finishing this question, scared to even hear an answer. Aubrey in the past was all bark no bite, but now that she's technically a witch, anything is possible.

"Totes," Beca still has her smile planted on her face, despite her response to a question definitely not smile worthy, but it's so what you'd say, and hearing such girly slang come from Beca's mouth is adorable, and it makes you smile as well. "But I'll protect you, not that you really need me. I've seen your right hook."

"Don't you mean these massive muscles?" You raise your arm up to flex, showing off your biceps and laughing when Beca rolls her eyes, smile starting to fade away and replace with her badass, sexy, ' _I'm about to get shit done'_ witch hunter face.

"Lets go."

"Wait." You stop her again, grabbing her forearm this time to prevent her from leaving the car. "Do you have like...spare shorts or something?" You gesture your hand over your current outfit, which is a blue and white bikini and nothing else, the total opposite of witch hunter gear, unlike Beca who is always prepared. "I feel kinda naked."

In the most _unsubtle_ way, Beca's eyes scan down your body in a torturing slow speed before meeting your eyes again. "Suits you." And she sends you a wink that you can't help but laugh at.

But you still need clothes.

"Seriously!" You smack at Beca's shoulder trying to keep the seriousness in the question before the pent up sexual tension takes control. "If I'm going to fight off some possible witches, I want to do it without flashing a tit or butt cheek...and don't you dare say you'd prefer that I'd do that!" You say quickly with a accusing finger pointed at a guilty looking Beca who's raising their hands up high in defense.

Reaching into the backseat again, surprisingly, she pulls out another lone pair of jean shorts and another black t-shirt that you snag immediately before sliding the shorts up your legs and buttoning them at the waist while throwing the shirt on.

Beca watches the whole process, a tint of hunger layering her eyes which momentarily makes you forget why the two of you are parked in some creepy forest and _aren't_ making out right now, but the gun sitting snug in the back of her shorts is a fast reminder what you guys are exactly about to do.

She's almost all the way out of the drivers side until she somehow catches your hesitation to get out of the vehicle and reaches back into the backseat to hand you another gun; a weapon that you're quite familiar with from training and was a gun you actually did really well with. It's not heavy like the others in Beca's collection, the recoil isn't mind shattering powerful, and with shooting this one, you're at least destined to knick a witch's arm or something, _at least._

You copy her moves to slide the gun into the back part of your shorts and follow her out of the car, flip flops snapping against the debris and twigs on the the ground when you walk. The forest is, again, deathly silent, and there's a thick film of fog coating every direction you look and that by itself brings a completely uncomfortable eerie aroma to make you feel less confident about doing this right now without possibly getting _killed_ in the process.

"What is your plan exactly?" You ask in a whisper as you follow closely behind Beca, who is sneaking around like a well trained cat just about ready to pounce on something. The two of you never really went over a brainstorm about how to go about this situation, which is _a_ _tad_ _bit_ unsettling to think about now that you guys are in the middle of a deserted forest with no one around to help, nor hear you _screaming_ for help.

Beca stops walking to pull out two syringes full of a thick black substance. "A little concoction I made all day and night yesterday, which is the main reason why I didn't respond to any of your messages. I wanted to talk to you, _swear_ , but I needed to get a potion together to reverse the Succubus rum," she explains genuinely, handing you over one of the syringes and you feel lighter hearing this confession. You also completely forgot Beca is able to create crazy potions and stuff because she _is_ a witch.

 _Oh my God._

You so totally have a thing for a witch.

Once the syringe is in your hand, not only do you realize it's an impressively sized shot with a gnarly length needle, the strong rotting smell of whatever Beca jumbled together hits your senses immediately and you clench a hand over your mouth in attempt not to gag.

But you do anyway, which earns a sharp hush from Beca and you hiss a whisper that you can't help it because whatever _God_ _awful_ stuff she put into this potion might just kill you before Aubrey does.

"Did you put a dead body in here, _Jesus_ _Christ_ , Beca!" You whisper hiss this under your breath and under your hand cupping over your mouth when you guys start to move again and you hold the shot like dirty laundry before shoving it into your short's pocket.

"Trust me, a dead body smells like a rose garden compared to that shit," is Beca's dry retort. She is mostly focused on scouting out Aubrey and Mr. Blonde Hunk to even be worried about you, which is, like, understandable. "We need to get that into Aubrey's neck somehow. It's filled with some of the tranquilizer stuff I use in my darts and, of course, the rum, along with a _ton_ of other witchy bullshit I had to dig deep and find, but I'm half positive it will work."

" _Half_ positive," you catch, pausing your movements because that's the farthest from reassuring now that you two could literally be confronted by the blonde and only have half the chance of surviving. "What the _Hell_ do we do if it doesn't work?!"

"Pray that we don't get slaughtered and hope you brought your A-game with your shooting abilities because chances are if it doesn't work, there will be lots of shooting going on," Beca answers absentmindedly, completely missing the wide stretch to your eyes and halt to your breathing from the sudden tidal wave of fear that you just got slammed with. "Actually, regardless if it works or not, getting that shot into Aubrey's neck is going to be tricky and chances are, she'll most likely try to rip your head off."

That's it.

You've came to another hast conclusion that you're going to die today.

Plain and simple.

 _Goodbye life! See you never!_

"Beca, I can't do this!" You announce when all the fear catches up at once, probably in a volume way too risky for the place the two of you are at right now, but you can't control it. Beca stops walking and turns around confused, mouth starting to open to say something that will change your mind, but you beat her to it. "Nope, nope, _nope_! I'm out of here!" you chant, turning on your heels to get the Hell out of the forest like nothing Beca can say or do will change your mind about staying.

Maybe she could try and kiss you again, tug you by the belt loops and pull you into a forceful, heated kiss, whispering to you how everything is going to be alright.

But even then you think that your life is more important, regardless of how sexy and irresistible Beca is.

How the heck are you two supposed to make out if either of you end up _dying_? See? Now that's something you can't allow, which is why you're walking back to Beca's car with a purpose and no chance of going back, ignoring how she is yelling in a harsh whisper to get you to come back, but you don't budge, not even in the slightest.

"Chloe?"

It's not until a new voice joins the scene, along with a bikini clad body that belongs to the one blonde girl you and Beca were just now following into the woods appears out of nowhere right in front of your tracks, giving you a _legit_ heart attack and you're stumbling backwards, unable to decide whether or not you should cry, scream, run or shoot at Aubrey before she rips your head off.

"Oh hey, Bree," you muster up a fake smile and awkwardly wave your hand to the suspicious blonde walking your way. "Fancy seeing you here!"

"What _are_ you doing here?" Aubrey asks suspiciously, one eyebrow raised up high as she creeps in closer to you, so you try to nonchalantly back peddle away to avoid being at an arm's reach from your sister because something tells you that this isn't going to be a friendly encounter. " _How_...did you get here?"

"Just... _uh_ …" you start nervously, voice wavering in panic as you try to come up with something. Beca's presence is long gone as you turn your head to silently ask for help, which, okay, thanks for _nothing_ , Beca. Oh no, you're seriously going to get murdered by your best friend. "I was just walking...and stuff. Clearing my head." You chuckle awkwardly, waving your hand in the air for extra dramatics.

Aubrey cocks her head to the side, not fully believing this because even you can rightfully admit that _none_ of it sounded convincing. She looks at you sideways before her mouth stretches into the creepiest grin you have ever seen- and you watch horror movies religiously! "I know that you're hanging out with that Beca girl."

 _Oh God no._

How the Hell does she know that?!

"I can smell her scent on you."

 _Dammit Beca and her permanent cigarette smell!_

"I-I...uh no! What?! _Beca_? Beca who?" You ramble out nervously, beads of sweating starting to form at your hairline and you feel that it's time to grip at the base of the gun caught behind your back. Word salad. Perfect example of a word salad at the _worst_ possible time. _Kudos for you, Beale._

"I know you're lying," Aubrey says, still moving closer to you, but this time as she gets closer, you see pass the fog that the color of her eyes are not their usual emerald green, but instead black, like, _midnight_ **black** , and there's no outer white part in the orbs. "I can't blame you, though. Girl is quite... _irresistible_ ," Aubrey purs this out and it gives you immediate goosebumps at how sinister she just sounded, plus how she looks because holy crap, talk about a winning terrifying Halloween costume.

You continue to slowly back away from Aubrey until your back hits a tree, and you think to yourself, _this_ _is_ _it_. You're about to die without giving a little bit of a fight and your _stupid_ , knight in ragged leather is _nowhere_ to be found.

Aubrey catches up to you, eyes disintegrating your strength and maniacal smile hitting a new level of creepy. With nowhere to move now that Aubrey has you cornered, she cranes her neck in close to your face, her breath is grossly hot and has a repulsive odor and you tense immediately, feeling trapped with no way out.

"She's hot and _yummy_. What I would do just to get my hands on her...or get my _tongue_ ," she whispers seductively into your ear in a tone that doesn't sound like Aubrey at all, and you whip away from her face as if she just slapped you, because, um, _no_. Absolutely not.

You don't care if Aubrey is _technically_ a witch and could kill you within seconds. Nobody talks about Beca like that to you- _your_ Beca (who's not here) and you have to use all your strength not to shoot Aubrey right now because even though she's a witch, right now, she's a complete **bitch**.

Apparently there's no such thing as "Girl code" in witch world.

"To bad you're in the way of letting me get what I really... _really_ want." Alright, Aubrey's voice has turned into full on witch mode, which should be more frightening than it is, but you're still hung up about the whole Beca comment to be scared. She violently grips at your throat with her hand, nails so long and gross they touch the back of your spine and, okay, you're scared now. "Guess I'll just have to take care of that little problem, now should I?"

You go for your gun hidden behind you when Aubrey's laughs switch to high pitched cackles, but stop before you grip the base. It's then when you remember Beca gave you a special shot that could possible reel Aubrey out of her little brainwash trance Gail and Kommissar put on her and save your best friend, so you opt for this option instead of the gun-even though the green monster you've morphed into is very tempted to shoot her right now.

"Aubrey," Beca's voice appears from behind the blonde and she's wearing her signature, heart throbbing smirk of hers while you're about to strangle this girl in front of you out of plain jealousy. Aubrey snaps her head back to look at the intruder, the impressively strong grip at your throat eases up. " _Jesus_ , you're so damn sexy." Beca doesn't bat a lash when she says this, nor does she take in the current situation.

"Excuse me?!" You screech at Beca's words directed to not you, but in fact, your best friend standing in front of you who happens to be a bloodthirsty witch that nearly seconds ago was about to kill you. You have claw marks circling around your neck like a choker as proof.

 _The fuck_?!

And seriously, no offense to the real Aubrey locked up inside witch Aubrey, but the blonde looks _hideous_ right now.

Beca doesn't answer you, nor does she even look like she's paying any attention to your presence, in general, and walks up closer to Aubrey with her smirk still planted on her face, hooks an arm around the blonde's waist and smashes their lips together, sending you down a deep, dark, endless tunnel of **what** **the** **fuck**. Aubrey kisses her back, moves her hands up to Beca's face and this time, you _do_ pull out the gun hidden behind your lower back, aiming right into the back of Aubrey's head.

You're a whole other level of _furious_ that the only thing preventing you from pulling the trigger is Beca lifting up one of her hands that is holding onto one of the syringes filled with the potion that she made earlier. Stabbing it into the side of Aubrey's neck just below her ear, she drains the mysterious liquid out into her bloodstream until she is pushed violently away and the two of your are left with a monstrous screech coming from no other than Aubrey, a very _angry_ , and newly _terrifying_ transformed witch.

Great, the potion didn't work.

What else could possibly go wrong?

It's takes a moment for you to process that, okay, your best friend is currently foaming at the mouth, pale as a ghost with blue veins visible around her cracked skin, zombiefied to a _key_ , a blood red rash bordering the bottom of her black eyes and just looking absolutely _disgusting_ , for lack of a better word.

But eventually it clicks to you that, holy crap, it's happening; Aubrey totally just " _witched_ _out_ " and is seconds away from ripping you to shreds if you and Beca don't do something, _fast_.

"Don't shoot, Red!" Beca yells over to you under the screeches coming out from Aubrey and how all of a sudden every twig, rock, branch, and leaf is circling in the air like a tornado, creating this massive windstorm around Aubrey who you realize is creating all the magic

And really, Beca says don't shoot when all of this is going on?

Obviously, the girl has a death wish, which is something you're perfectly okay with when the images of her mouth sucking on Aubrey's face not too long ago rings a bell and you remember that, oh yeah, she _did_ that.

You don't shoot, though, not that you think you could've had a small chance to even hit Aubrey with all the debris flying around from the wind and how it's almost _impossible_ to see anything. You expect Beca to do the honors of doing _something_ to keep Aubrey from marching at you like she currently is, ready to kill you with her bizarre voodoo magic, but she doesn't, which is _fantastic_.

And you find out she doesn't need to do anything because all of a sudden, all the debris, the glass shattering screeches and wind come to a dead stop, everything falling straight into the ground, including Aubrey, whose skin has transformed back to normal, but is lifeless on the forest ground.

"Got her," Beca announces like she just got done catching a Pokémon.

You march up to where she's inspecting Aubrey, adding more and more force each stomp to your foot. "What the Hell was that, Mitchell?!" When you make it, you shove Beca in the shoulder with much aggressiveness, nearly sending her back into the ground.

Cool, you guys caught Aubrey without dying in the process, but there's terrible replays going on inside your head of the kiss that involved someone who _you_ also kiss.

And like it more than a lot.

"Succubus rum and what it's designed for is weak against any form of physical and emotional intimacy. I had to get her mind off of _killing_ you and onto something else so I can stick the shot in her neck without her noticing."

"So...it didn't mean anything?"

Beca snickers, shaking her head with a small smile. "Couldn't remember it even if I wanted to, because your kiss and lips are the only thing running through my mind." You soften up a bit, and return the smile, feeling less jealous, but more the urge to kiss Beca until the sun goes down. "Anyways, I found the nest where Gail plans on keeping her bait, it's hidden and like a cemetery deal not too far from here. Witches hang these creepy voodoo looking stick figures around for each boy that's captured and are buried so they know where they are and no one else will dig them up."

"They're _buried_?" you ask, voice dripping with fear because that sounds awful. Buried alive is one of your biggest fears.

Beca nods her head and explains that Gail and a Kommissar put a spell in the drink they give to the boys that knocks them out until they've risen from the ground, keeping them well groomed and clean without rotting from the bugs so the ritual isn't affected, and if that ain't the scariest, most bone chilling thing you've ever heard, you're not looking forward to hearing what _is_.

Using her crazy witch hunter strength to lob Aubrey up over her shoulder, she takes you to the nest so you can see for yourself. The dolls are ten times more scary when you get there; they're made up of just twigs and branches, but somehow are built together as a stick figure person and brings chills down your spine. The area is also secluded away from everything else and is circled big the large forest trees, giving a clear view of the dog filled sky.

"All the fog will be gone by the time Halloween comes, giving a perfect, center view of the blood moon, which is why the ritual and sacrificing is more than likely going to be held here," Beca tells you as the both of you look up into the fog.

"Why don't we just rescue the boys now that we know where they are?" You ask curiously.

"We _need_ the ritual to happen because it's when Gail and Kommissar will be at their weakest. You can't tell right now because they've prepped by literally sucking the beauty out of young, beautiful girls before leaving them dry and dead, but soon that will wear off and their perfect skin, luscious blonde hair and teeth will go to shit and their true appearance will come back."

You gulp as you take a look at a inevitable scenery that will be filled with hundreds of witches and far more blood. "Well that's lovely," you snort sarcastically and decide to look at these dolls up close with Beca following behind.

"Whoa, there was only one of those when I found this place." For the first time, you hear fear in Beca's voice and she immediately drops Aubrey to the ground before wiping out her gun, but it's too late before she's barely dodging an incoming small spear of some sort heading straight for her nose, sending the, _apparently_ , very sharp object back into one of the trees, which instantly sticks into the middle of the trunk.

Another one flies at you before you can even register where and from _who_ it's coming from and Beca pushes you down into the ground, screaming at you to take cover as she shoots at something you're not too sure of above you. Your head takes a heavy impact against a stone weirdly circled around the nest, but you guess dizziness over a spear to the eye is a Hell of a lot better.

Everything comes out muffled and your vision is blurry from the hit, but it eventually clears up and you see Beca fighting off another girl, who you can rightfully assume is a witch; a tall and very _busty_ witch who goes by the name of Stacie Conrad and is engaging in a full on _fight_ with Beca all ' _witched_ ' out like Aubrey was. How and when the Hell did she even get here?

Beca takes a hard hit to the gut by a black broom like object Stacie levitated from off the ground and her gun gets smacked away somewhere unknown, leaving her without a weapon. It startles you back to life and up to your feet within seconds, full protective mode activated when you see Beca hunched over in pain with a hissing Stacie charging at her like a rabid witch.

You think about using the shot on Stacie, but she's way too upset to be able to get the needle somewhere near her neck without being ripped to shreds in the process

And you can't shoot at the girl because like Aubrey, she's your friend.

"Chloe!" Beca grunts into a yell, calling for your attention and tosses you over her blow dart weapon she's used so many times on innocent guys.

It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that she loaded similar darts like the shots you two had in the weapon and knowing this, you ready your aim on Stacie's quickly moving frame, using all the techniques you were taught by Beca in the past. You coach yourself to push aside the panic, the way your fingers fumble with the weapon and how your hands are trembling too much to take a clear shot, because if _anything_ would happen to Beca, you wouldn't know what to do with yourself.

There's no time to be _scared_ , _Chloe,_ anymore. So, you clear your mind from the panic and ignore the throbbing pain at the side of your head, ease your breathing into a steady pattern and lock onto the target from where you're kneeling on the ground. Right on the bullseye, the dart lands right into the front of Stacie's throat, just under her jaw. She comes to a screeching halt and rips the dart out, but it's too late before she, as well, is collapsing into the ground.

You see Stacie fall and drop the broom like weapon, your whole body going into paralysis, you think. "Holy... _shit_ ," you breathe under your breath as you try to cope with what you just did.

"Hey, are you okay?" Beca jogs up to where you're kneeling motionless, cupping either side of your face with her hands to inspect the injury at the side of your head you no longer feel.

You think of the best way to explain how you feel. "I-I...I can like _see_ sounds and _hear_ colors!" Beca belly laughs and pepper kisses your cheeks; you're too much in shock to even be affected by her lips on your skin.

"It's just the adrenaline," Beca explains through her laughs. She doesn't seem to be in any pain, minus the blood on her eyebrow and the corner of her mouth.

Using your thumb, you wipe away the blood at the corner of Beca's mouth and somehow getting lost in her steely blue eyes that are holding so much praise. "You're bleeding."

Beca takes your hand to stand you up and brushes off the dirt that caught onto your shorts and shirt. "Remember, I'm a witch. I can pretty much heal anything. Is your head okay?"

You check the spot and can feel a pretty impressive bump growing, and it hurts point to touch without any sign of bleeding, but other than that you don't _think_ you have a concussion. "Yeah….yeah I'm fine."

Beca takes it and smiles at you. "Let's get out of here before more of your ' _friends_ ' join the party."

* * *

Beca takes the three of you back to her cabin once you've successfully captured not only one witch, but _two_ , who are sleeping off the potion she shot them with and hopefully are transformed back to normal by the time Stacie and Aubrey wake up. If not, that could be a pretty big problem taking that Beca has two witches held hostage under her roof that are capable of way more than you thought they were.

Like seriously, you still can't get over the image of Aubrey in a completely different element; a _disgusting_ different element that transformed her entire appearance into a Halloween costume when on the outside she was basically _perfect_. From how her hair gotten so much more silky and shiny, how her eyes seemed the greenest you've ever seen them, and how her skin glowed majestically under the sun.

And Stacie basically went from super gorgeous to super _super_ gorgeous, so nothing big was changed there, but then went to scary, knife throwing expert in the woods and tried to slice your throat open.

You wonder if that's the outcome of becoming manipulated into a witch; perfect hair, facial structures and amazing skin to die for. If that's the case, then maybe becoming one wouldn't be that bad.

You could seriously make a fashion statement with the knee high striped socks, black clothes and broomstick.

But minus the disgusting witch mask and pointy nose please and _thank_ _you_.

For the most part, you've gotten over the whole kissing moment between Aubrey and Beca because, yeah, you understood why Beca had to do it. Though, you don't like admitting that you understood why your current make out partner is engaging in the same activities with your best friend, who before all this brainwash transformation happened _hated_ everything about the freshman; Beca's clothes, her dark makeup, car, witty and kind of bitchy personality, and basically Beca's entire human presence.

But whatever.

She kisses you even harder when you guys make it to her cabin; she opens the door of the passenger side of her car as if she's letting you out, but kisses you roughly to sit back into your seat before you could stand. You two go at it in the passenger seat until you're convinced that Beca has only eyes for you and you _only_ , and then you two move to the backseat and carry the two lifeless girls into the cabin.

With minimal ( _maximum)_ struggle that came along with throwing Stacie's limp, and rather tall frame over your shoulders, you eventually crashed the two in the guest room you stayed in previously, sleeping it off before they wake up.

Beca didn't have an issue with carrying Aubrey in it seemed like, which makes you wonder why the _Hell_ she made you-a prissy girl carry a six foot, all legs, amazon woman up a flight of stairs and into the cabin when she didn't even break a sweat, nor seemed out of breath when you guys completed the task, unlike you who sounded like you smoked six packs a day.

Once settled, though, she allows you all the freedom in her kitchen to cook her dinner when she announces that she is going to take a shower, so being mad about doing physical work and jealous of her kissing Aubrey sort of becomes old news to the point where you don't even remember _why_ you were these two emotions in the first place.

You are disappointed, however, when you slyly ask if her taking a shower is an invitation to join and she shoots you down faster than the suggestion is up, claiming that her food wouldn't be done if you were to join her.

And then you think to yourself that she could take a shower and be fed all at the same time, but you stop yourself from voicing it out loud, because you don't know what has gotten into you lately, but _sex_ is literally all you can think about when you're around the girl.

Beca has a kitchen full of unopened supplies, you notice once opening the doors and pantries and are left with endless possibilities of options on what to cook for everyone tonight. You want to cook something not too big, but something _delicious_ , more delicious than Beca's grilled cheese she seems to live off of.

Chicken is the entree you go with and freshly cut green beans and mash potatoes are the side winners. As you finish seasoning the chicken and stick it into the stove to cook, two strong hands grip at your waist from behind and the smell of someone who just got out of the shower hits your senses. Turning around, you barely have time to greet Beca, who has damp hair and is changed into more comfortable clothes before your mouth is being occupied by hers.

"I really want a cigarette," Beca admits over your mouth before you could even ask what has gotten into her all of a sudden to push you up against the counter, grabby hands search out for your bottom to lift you up to sit before taking place between your legs and kisses you _aggressively_ without any warnings whatsoever.

You giggle across Beca's lips in between rough sucks and nips from her teeth at how you've taken place as her own personal case of Nicorette gum. "Glad I can help," you mumble breathlessly into her mouth before gasping from Beca's hands sliding under your shirt and up to your chest before she's groping at the skin and _wow_ , okay, talk about a dive right into second base.

Not that you're complaining.

And okay, maybe a rush of pride takes over at the fact that your lips and kissing abilities are irresistible and enough to outweigh any withdrawal Beca may have, though, you were _insanely_ nervous about how good you were doing, but obviously it's not an issue since Beca keeps on coming back to you and would chose your lips over a cigarette.

What an accomplishment.

At least she chose you instead of Aubrey this time around, but you're not salty about it still.

Not one bit.

Due to the unplanned, spur of the moment make out session that took place in the kitchen while you were cooking, you ended up burning the food when Beca's mouth gained all your attention, making you forget about the chicken you had placed in the oven before she assaulted your mouth in the best possible way.

The buzzer on the stove and smoke spilling past the barriers that signaled the fire alarm to go off also put quite the damper on the mood, stopping the two of you from having crazy, hot and steamy possessive sex like you planned on doing as a reminder to who Beca belongs to, no matter how insanely _crazy_ that may sound, especially once your shirt came off, followed quickly by hers, and hands began roaming in places you never thought they'd venture.

Well, anytime _soon_ , that is.

But you have to admit that you were glad the two of you were interrupted, preventing anything pass the groping and rough kissing to happen, because even though your lower...region was _screaming_ at Beca for her to touch you, _intimately_ , the thought of sex right now gives you mixed emotions.

One second, the thought about sex with Beca excites you to no other. You know Beca is very experienced in the ' _pleasing_ _a_ _lady_ ' department, if not by her verbal admitting to not being a virgin and having multiple sexual partners, it's definitely by the way she works her tongue, knowing all the kinks and buttons to turn you on like a hot summer stove.

But the next second you feel nervous, and fidgety, scared that if you _were_ to have sex with Beca you'd ruin it somehow with your inexperienced prudeness and she'll probably end up avoiding you for the rest of the school year because you don't know how to thoroughly please a girl. Then on top of all the nerves, you feel very, _very_ nauseous, the warm tingly flutters mixing with the nervous flutters and spinning your head into a queasy mess.

Oh well, not that Beca is pushing it or anything.

Maybe you'll get over your hot and cold behavior and decide to go all the way after the two of you have the much needed talk as to what you guys are exactly. You might be head over heels for the girl, so wrapped up in everything that Beca is that you're basically a pretzel, but sleezy is a trait you'll never act upon and sorry, but one night stands and random hook ups aren't your style and never will be.

Until then, you enjoy all this second base, chest touching, spontaneous, handsy make out sessions randomly throughout the day.

Well, _today_ , since Beca attacking your face become a thing at the Bellas' Rush, which four people randomly snuck out of the party and never came back, three of them happened to be current Bella members and you know for a fact that brought some questions to Gail and Kommissar as to where a good chunk of their college sorority girl cult went.

And honestly, boobs, other than your own and on occasion and by accidental slip, Aubrey's, _so_ _much_ better than you ever expected them to be.

So, after you get the fire alarm to turn off, open all the windows to clear out the cabin from all the smoke, you guys end up ordering Chinese food, which is way better because you get to listen to her mixes all night and soak in the amazingness of both the food and the music, so it's a win win overall.

And you guys get to kiss some more, which could out beat a five star steak any day.

"I cannot believe we were able to kidnap not just one witch, but _two_ of them!" you squeal excitedly as you change into the spare pair of sweatpants and a flannel shirt Beca put out for you to get out of the uncomfortable bikini you had on all day. " _And_...I shot one of them!"

"I can tell the adrenaline is still buzzing in you," Beca snorts from where she's perched up on her bed, back against the head rest, one leg bent up while the other lays out straight on the mattress. She also ditched the leather jacket, skinny jeans and boots, changing into a simple black t-shirt and sweats. "Also, you look really fucking cute in my clothes."

You perform a catwalk, posing type thing for Beca to properly display her clothes, grab at the flannel that's unbutton and do a little shimmy for the girl. It earns a few chuckles until you're being beckoned over to the empty space besides the brunette. Plopping down into the space, you don't hesitate when clinging onto Beca's torso, similar to how you guys were laying the night she snuck into your room and gave you the closest feeling to a heart attack you have ever experienced.

You sigh contently at Beca's fingertips grazing along the skin on your shoulder and how secure you feel wrapped up in her arms. "I think I like this whole witch stuff. We could get matching leather jackets or matching tattoos." You mention when you graze your thumb over Beca's earphones tattoo on her wrist.

"I do like you in leather," Beca chuckles and you know she's smirking above where you're resting your head as she remembers one outfit in specific that included some leather, along with those thigh high boots that left her speechless. "And a tattoo? How _rebellious_ of you. What do you want? An infinity sign or a dream catcher?"

"A _ladybug_ ," you retort, ignoring Beca's other two options that are definitely the basic, _go_ - _to_ girl tattoos that you see pictures of all over. "On my wrist."

"Why?" Beca ditches the sarcasm and genuinely seems curious about you choice in ink that you want, but aren't sure you'll ever end up getting.

You shrug your shoulders. "Ladybugs are considered lucky and harmless, like me, though I can kick some ass when it's needed."

Beca laughs loudly. "Oh trust me, I know. Wouldn't ever want to make you upset."

"Good you shouldn't; I'll mess you up," you threaten unconvincingly and you enjoy all the laughs you're rewarded with from Beca. She has such a contagious, cute laugh that you wish you could listen to it forever. "But I haven't gotten one like I want to. Since like… a couple days ago. I've always been too scared to get one. I don't know how, but I've built up an extra layer of thick skin over these past weeks and I have no one else to blame but you."

"Guilty as charged." Beca snickers, not even a ounce of sorry in her voice.

"I don't know what it is but it feels like I've been in a coma, like, I don't remember who I was before I met you," you admit softly, not that it was a complete bad thing that you don't remember who you were previously because you kind of didn't enjoy being that Chloe. This Chloe is adventurous, fun, takes no shit and punches people, so that's an automatic like.

"I bet you were the amazing, _clingy_ , overly bubbly girl you are now, minus the sniper level shooting skills and vulgar choice of words."

You take a moment to think about this. A lot about you has changed since you met the freshman, but the occurrence of colorful language in your daily speech and thoughts has became more frequent. "I _have_ been cursing more since I've been hanging out with you," you realize and then smack Beca in the stomach. "You're a bad influence!"

Beca is laughing, but grunts when your hand hits her stomach. You're laughing, as well, though your grandmother would have made you washed your mouth out with a whole package of the strongest scented bar soaps in the store if she heard your vocabulary recently.

"It's not a bad thing. In fact, I think it's really hot." You lift your head from Beca's chest to look at her, unsure if she's just being sarcastic or if she actually means it. Sensing your conflict, "seriously. Nothing like hearing a sweet and innocent girl drop the _f_ _bomb_. Shit fucks me up."

"Good to know," you throw a playful wink at Beca and return to your previous position, cuddling even closer to take advantage of the closeness. "I can't believe I'm having an identity crisis. Maybe I should recreate my identity, start off fresh. Oh! I could be like Scarlett Johansson in the movie _Under_ _My_ _Skin_ and seduce and kill men after using them, especially now that I'm trained with a gun."

"That the girl with the lips?" You lift your head off Beca's chest for an entirely different reason this time. Shock is the main reason why your eyes are saucers and eyebrows are shot up past your hairline.

Beca has to be joking. There's no way she doesn't know the first girl in cinema to win the title of your first ever girl crush. Chances are, Beca has met this celebrity taking that she's super famous with music and all and someone who goes to _fancy_ events with _fancy_ champagne, along with _fancy_ people and stuff.

"You don't know Scarlett Johansson?" Beca doesn't reply; she only gives you a blank face with the occasional blink that even you can see through the darkness of the room. " _He's Just Not That Into You_?" Again, Beca doesn't respond and you scoff, amazed once again by the girl. "Really?! Black Widow in _The Avengers_ , no?" Beca gives off the same blank face and you could've sworn this movie would've rang a bell taking that she's all into action stuff because she's a witch hunter and all.

"I only kind of know the name because she's a fan of my music and I think she follows me a Twitter." Beca shrugs after finally speaking and how she just dropped this news so casually and how it's no big deal is way beyond you. "She's hot though."

"No _shit_ she's hot!" You ignore the way you can feel Beca's smirk grow in size under the darkness at the choice of wording. "Along with her costar, Jennifer Connelly, in _He's Just Not That Into You_."

"I don't know who that is...or the movie."

You roll your eyes even though you know Beca can't see it. The point you're trying to get across is that she's ludacris; the movie was basically the Bible in girl world. That, _The_ _Notebook_ and _Mean_ _Girls_ , of course. "What movies have you seen, picky?"

"None," Beca answers curtly. "I don't like them." This time you're the one absent of a response and can only blink blankly at Beca with what she just admitted to. "Though I did watch a porno at a high school party, I like _that_ one."

Disregarding the added comment about watching porn even though it tugged a smile out of you at how ridiculous this girl is, " _huh_ , interesting," you finally find something to respond back with-though you're still stuck on the fact that Beca doesn't enjoy movies, which is strange, but everyone likes and dislikes different things, which is why you don't hassle or lecture her into liking something she doesn't. "I don't like chocolate ice cream and when I tell people, it's like I told them I just admitted to kicking their dog."

There's a brief pause of silence of Beca just staring at you. "You never cease to amaze me, Red." You can sense the astonishment in Beca's voice with the route you've taken the conversation. "Usually I have to go on with a spiel as to why I don't like movies after I get lectured about not liking them, so not hearing it this time around is equally surprising as it is reassuring."

"I mean, it's... _new_ ," you start, unable to find the right word to express the abnormality with Beca not liking movies. "Hearing that someone doesn't like movies, but who am I to force you into liking something that you don't?" Beca nods her head as she listens, but grabs her remote that controls the stereo system in her room to change the song that just cued up and you slap the remote out of her hand. " _Except_ if it's "In Your Eyes" by Peter Gabriel then I'm going to imprint the lyrics inside your head until you adore everything there is about the song!" you threaten and yank the remote farther away from Beca so it's out of reach when the girl tries diving for it again.

"God, I fucking _hate_ this song," Beca complains like a downright four year old having a tantrum, loling her head back into the wooden material of the headrest connected to her bed. "It's the worst."

"This is a _classic_ , Beca! I know you don't like movies, but _Say_ _Anything_ where this song and John Cusack's signature jukebox serenade happens outside her window was the most heartrending, beautifying, most _famous_ movie shots caught on camera!"

"Actually, that's kind of really fucking creepy," Beca battles back.

You gasp out loud, unable to find words this time, because Beca may have just committed the biggest sin in the music books.

Beca just laughs softly to herself and the only noise around the two of you is the sweet melody of Peter's chart topper and beautiful voice, bringing back a whole wave of nostalgia in memory of one of your favorite movies.

"Aubrey and I would watch that movie on repeat under tubs of ice cream and chocolate, dreaming of the day someone special serenades us in the middle of the night," you sigh dreamy, the thought still brings chills to your skin, but chances are this whole scenario would never happen. People are so _2017_ now, with the fancy iPhones, and the DMs and the Tinder that they wouldn't even know true, romantic gestures if they were slapped in the face by them.

"Oh I bet." You smack Beca again, half because she sassed you with the sarcasm and half because she's hating on an amazing song and a little bit because you know she thinks you're being _that_ girl who is full of gross, hopeless dreams that will never come true.

The song is great, though. What are the odds of you belting out in song for the girl to rub it in her face the captivating lyrics the song brings?

None, apparently, because soon, you're pulled back into place over Beca's chest; she returns her hand to trace invisible patterns over your shoulder and you go back into her warm, comfortable embrace, soaking in the sweet, delicious scent of vanilla mixed with orange chicken.

And not to sound insanely cheesy and _nauseating_ , but you never thought a person could feel like paradise, in a way, but that was before you ran into Beca and before the two of you started this whole little deal that requires adventurous make outs throughout the day.

It makes you wonder if this whole deal is a first for Beca, or if she has been caught in a lot of... _whatever_ this is that you two are currently doing.

"What was your first time like?" You ask all of a sudden from where your head is resting on Beca's chest while your fingers play with hers on top of her stomach.

You've always dreamt of your first time being gentle, and special and with someone who you can actually admit to loving. It makes you wonder if Beca's first time was like that, though you don't know how you would exactly feel if it was.

"Couldn't tell ya," Beca answers while her fingernails from where her arm is hooked around your shoulder trails up and down your skin lightly. "I hardly remember it because I was so drunk. What I do remember was that it was fucking _hot_."

"You don't remember the first time you had _sex_ with somebody?" You ask for clarification because what you got so far is preposterous. "Like at all?"

"I know it was with a hot girl back in LA once I moved out there. She was a bartender at a club and happened to catch my fake I tried to buy alcohol with. One thing lead to another and I woke up the next morning in her apartment, packed my stuff together and left. Haven't heard nor seen her since. Sex was good though, from what I can remember."

"Seriously?" The jealousy is back before you know it and it alters the snap in your tone. You raise your head up from Beca's chest, both of your eyes mirror each other with twin narrow glares, but yours by far is more intimidating for once. "Random hook ups? How much have you had? Why did you have so many? Why do you do it? How could you just _leave_ after having sex?"

Beca chuckles despite her obvious confrontation of questions and your burning glare she's the star under. "I told you, I don't date."

"So you'd rather go around having sex with random people who you have _no_ connection with in dirty, club bathroom stalls?"

Beca squints and looks at you sideways. "Okay, that was very... _detailed_."

Ignoring the last comment and instead, more focused on the one question you've been dying to hear the answer to since the first lip lock you two engaged in back at the Bellas' house. "If you don't date, Beca, what are we?" You ask that last part in a tone barely above a whisper, scared shitless about what she's going to say.

And it doesn't help the nerves when she doesn't respond right away, filling the aroma around you two with thick, uncomfortable silence under the darkness of her bedroom.

Which is just reassuring.

Not.

Eventually noise other than awkward silence fills the air in the room, but you hate that fact that it's light chuckles coming from Beca who obviously thinks something about you trying to figure out a label for the two of you guys is humorous when it definitely _isn't_. Beca Mitchell, expert at laughing at the worst possible times.

"We are two girls who hunt witches and happen to make out on our free time," Beca finally says and you've wanted to do many things to that _irritatingly_ _sexy_ smirk of hers that mostly revolves around kissing it, but right now you want to flick it away because Beca is so not taking this conversation seriously.

"So that's it?" You allow yourself to snicker, but it's a sarcastic, _I can't believe she just said that_ snicker. You cock your jaw, eyebrows knitted together and eyes squinted when you look at Beca.

The girl must be burning up because she is walking on thin ice right now. Any other comment dropped that mentions how you two make out so everything should be fine and Beca is getting _dunked_.

Beca groans exasperated, running a hand through her hair before her fingers fist a tight grip at the crown, and you know it's Beca's warning that she is becoming irritated. "I already told you I liked you, didn't I? We've made out _multiple_ times today, just like you've been wanting. Isn't that enough? Why does there always have to be something more?"

That's it. Beca has officially hit a nerve causing you to stand up abruptly from her grip and flip on the bedside lamp to make sure she has a good look at how her words just affected you negatively. "Because I'm not a piece of meat, Beca! I'm not _someone_ who goes around throwing themselves at people, giving them everything when I get _nothing_ in return!" You pause your rant and Beca assumes it's her chance to talk, but you quickly cut her off when more rage surfaces your body. "And why there has to be _more_? I don't know, Beca. Normal people label things like this- _things_ like making out and getting all _touchy_ _feely_ with each other!"

"I'm not a normal person, Chloe," is Beca's monotone response along with her blank, emotionless face.

"I understand that; you're a witch, but also a witch hunter and have a secret celebrity life away from Barden and are _super_ talented with scary weapons, kay _cool_! But you can't kiss me like you've been doing and not expect the feelings already built towards you to grow bigger," you explain in mid pace, waving your hands up in the air all over the place and looking very like a very animated, angry redhead _done_ playing this hot and cold shit from Beca. Whiplash is not a comfortable feeling.

"I don't know what you want from me," Beca admits clipped with a stone cold face, and you can see her tightening her jaw to the point of possibly shattering teeth. Her hands are fisted together above her lap and her body is turned away from where you're standing, but her attention is glued to you like you're the last person left on Earth.

You go through a series of possibilities as to why Beca is behaving the way she is and settle on one in particular; one that you really wish isn't true. "Is it because I'm a virgin?" Your voice is barely above a whisper when you ask, all pacing and hand motions halted for now.

"I mean," Beca starts her sentence deep in thought and you tense because that's not the response you expected at all. "Yeah," she admits and doesn't realize how this confession of hers _hypothetically_ crushes you into the ground by the hefty size boulder this word turned out to be. She doesn't, however miss the wash of hurt masking your face and how your eyes stretched wide enough to shrink your hole forehead. "But it's not what you think it is." She scrambles to find better wording, but the pain from the previous excuse is already present.

"Oh that's reassuring," you mock sarcastically and start your process of packing your belongings, which consist of your swimsuit, flip flops and the half full beer you guys opened at dinner. "You know what, I'm _leaving_. It's obvious you need space and time to think about this and honestly, I just want to kiss you and strangle you all at the same time, so _bye_."

"Where are you going?" Beca's amusement is peeking out of her tone as she watches you scan the room with all your stuff flooding your arms. "We could just kiss and stuff, forget about this whole little talk that _you_ wanted in the first place."

Annoyed, you lift your head from where you are bent down, picking up your flip flops, hair blanketed over your face and you have to huff out air to blow it away. "I'm not a _hussy_ , Beca! You might be into all this no label, doesn't mean anything hookups, but I'm not," you finish explaining as you pick up your last item, which is your cell phone and read that it's pretty late anyways. You planned on staying with Beca, but who knows if you'd wake up with the girl since she has a habit of _dipping_ _out_ all the time. "And no matter how bad I want to kiss your stupid face, I'm not going to let myself fall down the rabbit hole of being someone's _punching_ _bag_ , but instead of punching, I'm used only for _pleasure_."

Beca tries to cover her snickers in time before they come out, but fails completely, and you send her the nastiest glare you could come up with. Her eyes squinting from how she laughs would've been a dead give away, anyways, so all in all, the tactic would've been pointless.

What was it that she thought was so funny, you ask? Well, now that's something you don't fully understand nor have the patience right now to figure it out. You're too upset with the talk that you've been looking forward to since the first time Beca kissed you and how it turned out. So, you stomp away to the closed door connected to the bedroom, leaving a cloud of imaginary smoke that came out from your ears and a smirking little devil on the bed to hopefully think about what she's done to you.

"Where do you plan on going? You do know this place is forty miles away from Barden, hidden from any form of civilization in the middle of a deserted forest? And that's not including that it's night time." Beca reels you back in by a throwing a lasso over your upper body, stopping you dead in your tracks from reaching the door and turning you around.

You open your mouth as if you had a plan to prove all of Beca's logic wrong, but you don't, so your mouth just hangs there wordless while you think this whole temper tantrum through. Not only are you stuck without a car to get back to Barden with the one person you're trying to get away from, but you were also driven to this cabin by that one _person_ and she's the only one who can take you back. If that's not the most embarrassing thing you have done, _geesh_.

"You could stay in the guest room with Aubrey and Stacie- though I don't know how you'd feel about spooning with two former witches." You almost laugh at this if it isn't for the cheek bite you have to do to prevent you from doing so. It also doesn't help that Beca's smile is beaming brighter than the sun from where she's moving off the bed to hang her legs off the edge and how her feet don't touch the hardwood floor.

She's so tiny and adorable yet so badass and intimidating all at the same time.

She's also a pain in your ass.

"Or I could drive you back?" Beca suggests and having no other choice here because walking forty miles in flip flops screams multiple tetanus infections, you nod your head, agreeing to the ride Beca offered.

"Aubrey and Stacie are coming with me back to the Bellas', as well," you add in your two cents.

"No can do, Red." Beca is quick to turn this request down. "Aubrey and Stacie need to stay here with me. It's bad enough that you're living in the Bellas' house while faking everything, _three_ would definitely blow our cover. Losing Stacie and Aubrey in the army isn't much of an issue, but losing you, an important piece in their giant spell would cause quite the kaos. Chances are Aubrey and Stacie's absence won't even be noticed."

Great.

Perfect.

Splendid.

Basically what Beca is saying is that Aubrey and Stacie get to mute out their whole college student life and have this private, secluded vacation away from the mess the Bellas' house is turning into while _you_ get to go back and act like everything is _fine_ and _dandy_. How is any part of that scenario one, fair, and two, _okay_ in any shape or form?

Beca senses your confusion and slight anger (maybe jealousy...probably _jealously_ ) and continues on with her explanation. "It's only for a little bit. Technically, we only have seven weeks and three days until the blood moon. I'll train them with everything I can and Luke could even help. Of course, them being missing, along with those two random guys they abducted will have Barden on lock down, though I expect some sort of tricks up Gail's sleeve that I'm not too sure of, but I know it's coming."

You don't really know what to say to this and you're positive you don't remember how to form words because things are starting to get really _real_ now. Everything is now going at a hundred miles per hour and it's all happening so fast for your liking and you just really wished for it to be less scary and complicated and more easy.

And maybe cross out the whole witch deal because without it, this situation would be a piece of cake.

Beca continues on when no response other than a blank face comes from you. "So, I'll take you back to the Bellas' and let me know the atmosphere of the house. I highly doubt it will change, maybe get more creepier, but that's it."

You snort when Beca says this. That's a good thing to look forward to. When you didn't think the house could get anymore _creepier_ , chances are it's going to.

"Chlo, things are about to get intense, especially with the kidnappings. I want to make sure you're cool with this."

"I'm _fine_ ," you snap back with your tone clipped, crossing your arms above your chest.

Mostly, you're still upset about how Beca doesn't exactly want to label you guys, which is basically a stab to the heart with a machete knife _rejection_ , and you just found out that Aubrey and Stacie-mostly Aubrey since she just kissed Beca not too long ago- gets to stay in this fancy cabin with Beca while you're shooting your brains out from classes.

"Good, I'm glad," Beca's voice is soft, maybe because she knows that she's walking on thin ice with you right now.

As you're opening the door to continue your stomping out to Beca's car, two girls; one holding a baseball bat and the other holding a frying pan stop you from doing so and in unison, all three of you scream bloody murder before you slam the door into the intruder's face. Panting due to fear and how Beca suddenly teleported to your side and is now holding her butterfly knife out in front, she slowly creeps open the door to find Stacie and Aubrey on the other side.

"Chloe?!" Aubrey screeches when she sees you again and throws the frying pan she is holding into the ground. Stacie's posture also eases up once she sees your face, but Beca's stance is more cautious. "Where the Hell are we?! Why are we here?!" Aubrey switches her glare to Beca, who is currently holding a knife up to her face. " _Why_ is she here?!"

You keep a hard stare on your friend while she freaks out. Good news, she hasn't tried to kill you or Beca yet, which is reassuring and means that the black potion worked. They also seem extremely confused and scared, like they've been blacked out for weeks now, which makes sense because their brains were in the hands of someone else.

"Looks like _you_ have some explaining to do since, you know, they'll be joining you for dinners now," you say bitterly with squinted eyes on Beca and she still has on an apologetic face that seems to be doing nothing. "And you," you walk the remaining distance over to Aubrey and without putting any thought along with your actions, you slap her across the face, ignoring Aubrey's confused exclamations in pain as she holds her cheek. " _That's_ for kissing Beca."

And with that, you leave the scene; you leave Stacie who is all around baffled that you slapped Aubrey and is ushering to the blonde for comfort. You leave Aubrey who's cursing from the sting and leave Beca who looks as if she's enjoying the scene a little too much.

* * *

The next day after the rush, the Bella's received hundreds of pledges from girls all over Barden and hands down, it's the most that the Bellas' have ever gotten, _period_ , since the first year the Bellas' sorority became a legit thing. Gail and Kommissar, you assume, are they ones taking over who gets into the Bellas' and who is lucky enough to stay away from this Hell hole, _literally._

By the time Beca dropped you off at the house last night, you were surprised to see the rush still taking place. _Of_ _course_ , less people were there at night when you showed up compared to when you were there in the afternoon, but how the music was still boomin' and the puke and _ralliers_ were still fighting strong, it was impressive to say the least.

Gail and Kommissar were also MIA when you showed up at the house, and same with all of your sisters...now that you're thinking about it, but Beca tells you that they're probably taking care of the guys Stacie and Aubrey lured out into the nest, which then makes sense as to why everyone besides you is at the Bellas' house.

Well everyone except you, Aubrey and Stacie, who are more than a little shaken up about what is happening at Barden after Beca and you tried to explain it to them, but weren't budging so easy, as expected. They did, however, agree to training with Beca; Aubrey mostly because she wanted to keep Gail and Kommissar from ruining the name and history behind the Bellas' and Stacie because she admitted to wanting to shoot a gun or has a strange talent for throwing knives.

And also because even without the succubus rum messing with their heads, the both of them still had something _strange_ going on between them, which is reassuring knowing that they are interested in each other rather than Beca, their soon to be drill Sergeant once training comes around.

Not that you care, because Beca right now, for the first time _ever_ , is not on your favorite list.

And that's why you've been ignoring all her texts and denying all her calls, not wanting to talk to the girl who can't express how she really feels towards you because of the little fact that you're a _virgin_ , which is just complete bullshit, to be honest.

So, that leads you to why you're currently and _have_ _been_ locked up inside your room, painting your toenails, coincidentally listening to Pat Benatar's "Love is a Battlefield" in the background and trying your hardest not to think of Beca and how you _really_ just want to talk to her to get rid of this unbearable heart cramp that you've been given since the moment you slammed the passenger door in Beca's face last night.

Or you just want to kiss her senselessly because her lips pressed roughly against yours are long over due, but whatever.

 _Believe me, Believe me,_

 _I can't tell you why._

 _But I'm trapped by your love_

 _And I'm chained to your side_

You're on your pinky toe when you pause the painting and get hit with major feels from this verse of the song; Pat Benatar's raspy, aggressive voice expressing everything you're feeling in this moment with Beca.

Like she knows exactly how you feel, or is strangely stuck inside your messed up head filled with a plethora of thoughts all revolving around Beca Mitchell herself.

 _We are young_

 _Heartache to heartache we stand_

 _No promises, No demands_

 _Love is a battlefield_

"Ain't that right," you mutter to yourself at the lyrics, not even caring that talking to yourself is crazy, maybe even borderline schizophrenic.

But Beca does that to you. Transforms you into a lovesick, lunatic with a bunch of weird, scary feelings that you have no idea what to do with them, especially if they're not reciprocated in the right way like you hoped.

You're just about to get back to painting your last toe until you hear music outside of window, but it's too muffled to hear what the actual song is. Curious to what's going on, you twist on the top of the nail polish to the bottle and set it on your desk before cautiously walking over to your window like a penguin, toes pointed upwards to avoid them touching the ground and possibly messing up the cherry red color.

As you're opening your window, the lyrics to "Can't Fight This Feeling" blares through your room, REO Speedwagon's hit song replacing Pat Benatar's and you look down into the street where the music is coming from, completely taken off guard to see Beca leaning against her car's door, holding up her beats pill in the air, mirroring John Cusack in one of the best romantic movies, _Say_ _Anything,_ and your heart gets hit full blast with emotions.

But not only that, she's _singing_ along with the song in the middle of the street and hearing her voice overpowering Kevin Cronin's vocals is enough to make you swoon and melt all at the same time.

And maybe you feel like crying, you don't know.

Thank _God_ it's nighttime and she's down there while you're stuck up high just so she couldn't tease you about how your toenails, hair and face are all sporting the same color.

Beca looks up at your window, her usual smirk planted on her face from where she is standing below your room. "It's not "In Your Eyes," but I was being serious when I said I can't _fucking_ stand that song."

You giggle at Beca's yells over the music, shaking your head in case you might be hallucinating this whole scene, because serenading someone in the middle of the night outside their window with a speaker held above her head isn't something you would've expected Beca to do.

"Since you aren't answering my calls, I decided this is my only option."

"Are you insane?" you finally ask and don't even try to cover up the megawatt smile glowing over your face as you perch yourself on the window ledge to look down at Beca, how much you truly missed her only then hitting you like a ton of bricks.

No matter how much the unexpected surprise is appreciated, perhaps more than it should be, the chances of Beca getting caught here by one of your sisters is very possible.

Something about blaring music at night time when people should be sleeping would attract quite the attention from others, even though Gail and Kommissar are again, gone somewhere, but the chances of them coming back from wherever they were is _terrifying_.

But Beca's melodic voice is already greatly missed.

 _God_ , it's so crazy to hear such a small little girl have such gigantic pipes.

Beca shrugs her shoulders, turning the volume down on her phone so she doesn't have to yell anymore. "Maybe I am insane, who knows. What I do know is that nothing really makes sense anymore. Everything that I use to think and go by is history now that I've met you."

Though you're loving the route where this conversation is going-already a hundred times better than the last talk you had with Beca- the annoying itch of getting caught is at an all time high. "Beca, you can't be here right now. You know how risky all of this is?" Beca just shrugs her shoulders in a _I don't care_ type of way, and you shake your head. This girl is incorrigible in the cutest freaking way. "Come up here."

Immediately, Beca takes the invitation and starts her process of climbing up the tree like she did the first time she snuck into your room. As she is busy playing monkey outside your window, you take the time to fluff your hair and make yourself presentable, not even caring that you messed up your wet toenails in the process.

Luckily, not much work needed to be done since you are wearing casual sleep shorts and a white tank top under Beca's black and white flannel she gave you yesterday; nothing too lazy nor fancy, but good enough for a guest.

Beca jumps into your room without a scratch, bump or bruise from climbing up the tree and her hair still looks amazing. She's also not even breathing heavy which makes you want to believe she's some sort of bionic woman. As she straightens out her leather jacket, you walk over to face her and notice a new glimmer caught in those stormy blues that have hooked you since the first time you've seen them.

"You still look cute in my clothes."

You look down at your outfit and shrug, mostly because you feel your face getting hot.

"Thanks for ignoring me, by the way," Beca jokes sarcastically and you're already on your way to apologize for this hypocritical move you just pulled on Beca when before, you wanted to strangle her for doing the same to you. But, she stops you from doing so. "No, seriously. You not talking to me sucked, God it _fucking_ sucked even though it was just a day, but it gave me time to think."

Without initiating the physical contact again, Beca reaches out and takes your hands, the chill from her fingers and silver rings covering them raises goosebumps over your skin and all in all, your heart stops beating completely. It is such a small gesture-hand holding and stuff like elementary kids, but it's still not something you're use to. Just like how you're not use to Beca looking at you the way she has been recently and are _positive_ you'll never get use to it.

"I can't fight these feelings I have towards you anymore; you're like an infection that I can't stop thinking about," Beca admits genuinely; you can see the sincerity laced in her voice and it glowing in her eyes. "Hence the song I just openly belted for you outside, you're welcome."

You giggle at Beca's eye roll and how she tries to cover up her romantic gestures by annoyance, but you know her well enough to know she's not annoyed by any of it. "You have a lovely voice, by the way," you compliment with a grin, the trueness of how beautiful Beca's voice just isn't possible with only words. "Though I thought you hated movies."

"Oh I can't fucking stand them, but I took your word and was able to get through one in particular since I had no one to talk to all day... _barely_. I might've fell asleep a few times." You snicker again at Beca's honesty with a shake to your head and are still surprised to see her hands still tangled up in yours. "But it helped me realize that you've fucked me up in the best possible way."

"You going to start singing again?" You hide your eagerness towards what point Beca is trying to make by a joke and your insides do somersaults by witnessing her smile; a kind of smile you are sure will never get old. She's so pretty, _holy_ _crap_. How can someone be this freaking pretty without even knowing it?

"Hush," Beca laughs through her kryptonite smile and surprises you once again by detaching one of her hands from yours and replaces it with your hip, pulling you in closer to her. So close you can smell that vanilla scent of hers and the fading smell of cigarettes on her jacket now that Beca has officially stopped smoking. "I'm over here serenading you with shitty songs, trying to trap you into being my girlfriend and you're over here making jokes?"

You don't allow your eyes to bulge, nor do you allow your knees to buckle at the subtle and _extremely_ sneaky way she just dropped the _g-word_ to hit you straight in the gut like Hiroshima. Instead, you take secretive, easy, and deep breaths to calm your breathing patterns, getting a hold of your excitement to keep a poker face and not fold over by the squealing giddiness threatening to make a scene.

"Oh, you want me to be your _girlfriend_ now?" You repeat Beca's words playfully, the label having the same effects, perhaps even amplifying them, but it gets you a warm chuckle from Beca instead of an eye roll and a glorious sound like that could make up for anything, you think. "Not just using me for my body?"

Beca's other hand joins your waist and her thumbs rub circles against your skin above the brim of your shorts, somehow having slid up your tank top without you noticing. Either way, the touches light your skin on fire underneath. She nods her head, smile still glued on you. "I mean... _yeah_. I'll probably suck at it and we'll get on each other's nerves; it's inevitable, but now, after fighting off my obvious feelings towards you, I understand that I might be an _awful_ girlfriend who doesn't know what she's doing, but I at least want to try it for the first time with _you_."

You bounce your head side to side as you fake like you're trying to think whether or not you should agree to this suggestion when you already know the answer. "Eh, I don't know." Beca squints and looks at you sideways, as if she expected you to be hooked already without so much of a thought to what she's asking for.

" _Seriously_? You've been dying to be my girlfriend since the first second I met you." The grips caging your waist from Beca's hands tightens and something inside your stomach boils at the sudden hotness the situation transformed into.

You scoff, though you hate to admit it is kinda the truth, but Beca doesn't need to know that. " _That_ was before I got to know the _real_ you and found out that you hate movies and Peter Gabriel." You can't even talk without your smile somehow increasing in length over your face, proving that one, you're an awful liar, and two, you're so wrapped up in Beca that people should be calling you a pretzel. "Guess you missed your chance, Becs," you tease with a grin, shrugging one of your shoulders.

Beca blinks blankly at you for a second until her smirk is back a bigger than you've ever seen it. "God, you're the _worst_." And you laugh at this for as long as you can until you're being silence by Beca's lips pressed on yours and she's pushing you back onto your bed before climbing up to straddle your thighs without breaking the kiss.

You, however, get a few swipes of your tongue on Beca's before your hand knotted in her hair goes down to her chest and pushes her away, breaking apart your lips to fill the air with heavy, ragged breaths. "I _know_ you can change after not being one who has ever been committed romantically with someone else, but promise me you won't change too much?"

Beca looks down from where she's leaning down over you, her hair now curtaining over one side of her face and for the first time, Beca is actually _looking_ at you like you've been lost to her for a thousand years and she finally found you. Stumbling upon this friendship that bloomed into so, _so_ much more, all taking place in the courtyard of Barden University.

She takes one of her hands and combs a piece of your hair not sprawled against your bed sheet behind your ear and lingers the palm of her hand on the side of your cheek. "I promise." And this time when she leans back down to kiss you and you feel her smiling into the kiss when your lips meet, all the air in your body gets sucked right out and you're left with a feeling you've _never_ felt in your life.

Like before, your hands find their way to tangle into Beca's hair, one of her hands finds the fastest route under your tank top while the other takes place at the side of your neck, holding your head in place as she kisses you harder than all the previous times, but nonetheless still passionate and soft. It's all the same regarding positioning and the sparks going off once your lips meet, the same roughness mixed with passion is still there.

Everything going on in and out of the kiss is no different from all the other previous lips locks, yet this time when you kiss Beca, it _feels_ different.

Like there's closure, _finally_ , after being lost for so long.

And how this time when you kiss Beca and she kisses you back, you feel content, that even though you are fighting for your life while living in a house full of witches, your life is pretty damn perfect right now.

And there's no place you'd rather be if it's not with Beca by your side.


	11. Chapter 11

**To those who don't like Beca in this story...sorry but she doesn't play a sappy, romantic, Prince Charming character who is overall cheesy just because that's not her character in this story. No, she doesn't treat Chloe like a bitch, no she isn't some "sex god" and Chloe isn't a ditz. Character development my friend, and obviously this story is very different from all my other stories, so yes the interactions will be different. Sorry if you don't like how I write their chemistry in this story but I do and completely understand why you are no longer interested.**

 **That is all :)**

 **(I DO NOT OWN PITCH PERFECT NOR THE SONGS MENTIONED)**

* * *

 **Chapter Eleven: Lady In Red**

"As much as I love making out with you-and trust me, I _love_ it, more than life, I came here for a real reason after you hopefully said yes to being my girlfriend."

Much to your dismay, Beca breaks away from the kiss, leaving you gaped at the mouth from the absence of her tongue, eyes glued shut and chest heaving for air from where you're trapped underneath. You think about keeping your eyes closed to catch your breath and savor the way Beca's voice is all sorts of low and raspy, and how one of her hands is caressing the goosebump covered skin under your tank top with her fingernails while her other one plays with the ends of your hair.

But the view you're given when you do open your eyes is a picture worth a thousand words.

Beca's eyes are dark, hooded over with a sparkling gaze and she's smiling bright above you, so close you could lean your head in just a fraction and the two of you would be kissing again.

Which is all you want to do right not, if you're being honest.

"I'm taking you out," Beca announces as she quickly drops a chaste kiss over your intensely swollen lips.

Recovering from the view of how incredibly _hot_ Beca looks above you and the blissful euphoria knowing that you're officially taken off the market and get to make out with your witch hunter girlfriend whenever the Hell you want, you morph your face into the best puppy dog pour you could muster up, hoping to get your way. "Do we have to leave?" You have no idea where Beca is planning on taking you, but the images of you two staying in bed all night, making out and feeling each other up sounds like _heaven_ that can't be beat. Not even by pizza or frozen yogurt. "It's late, Becs. What possibly could you want to you-and don't you dare say hunt some more witches because, honestly, I'm burnt out."

Beca chuckles at your pleas to stay in tonight; you don't know if you'd be able to make it out alive if you two ran into another witch encounter. It was bad enough when you expected to just come home with _one_ witch and ended up filling the back seat of Beca's mustang with _two_ of them, which wasn't an easy task to say the least.

Speaking of (hopefully former) witches who happen to be your Bella sisters, you wonder how they're doing once Beca filled in all the blanks for them. It's been twenty four hour since you last seen Aubrey and Stacie, twenty four hours since you last slapped Aubrey in the face and stormed off without a warm greeting like, " _oh my God, Bree! I can't believe you're okay!"_ and instead opted for a violent greeting, filling your right palm with her full cheek.

You can only imagine the confusion and maybe even fear they both are filled with once taking in the fact that yes, they were brainwashed into _provocative_ , heartless witches under control of Gail and Kommissar who are head of this so called cult they're planning to take over the world with and, oh yes, tried to _kill_ you and Beca earlier in the woods.

"You can stay the night?" you ask more like a question, hesitant about how Beca would respond to this. The last thing you needed is to scare her off _right_ when you guys minutes ago defined the relationship. A girl asking their girlfriend to spend the night is a step away from a U-Haul truck. "You seem like a breakfast kind of girl and I make _mean_ scrambled eggs."

Beca smiles wide at your assumption, which only proves your theory right. "Again, as much as I'd love that because eggs happen to be my _favorite_ , there's _multiple_ reasons why that can't happen." You cock your head to look at Beca sideways wounded, slightly leaning up on your elbows, to which she gives you more space. At your confusion, Beca clarifies. "One of them being that you live under a roof with two women who would skin me alive and use my bones as toothpicks if they were to catch me here, in a room, making out with their main ingredient in their giant witch ritual."

An _ingredient_?

Okay well, that's not the worst thing you've been called-definitely the first time hearing it, though.

"Whoa, that was very _graphic_." You snicker to cover up your audible gulp, all from fear knowing what your house mothers are capable of if they were to catch Beca in your bed. You have yet to see them use magic-other than a few spells here and there- but you wild imagination tells you that that is a good thing.

A very good thing.

But the thought of sneaking around in effort not to get caught; Beca tossing rocks at your window, climbing up trees to break into your room in the middle of the night so you two can make out like dirty teenagers and swallow down each other's noises from the kiss to keep quiet makes _exciting_ an understatement.

You have to admit, you may or may not have developed a craving for _dangerous_ things.

Hence why Beca is your own personal dose of heroine that you can't get out of your system without going through excruciating withdrawals.

Beca keeps her smile; a smile not as big as before and more lazy than anything, but nonetheless still cute as heck. She tickles her fingertip around your belly button in a circle shape and you try not to flinch at the touch, but probably fail at it more than you feel comfortable knowing when Beca's touch is like tiny little jolts of electricity. "The second reason why I cannot stay is because I'm spinning at a club in the city, and I hoped my girlfriend would join me tonight."

After taking in a moment to soak in the _girlfriend_ label that causes your heart to swell right out of your chest and poke Beca in the eye, you come to terms that Beca is still a _huge_ success and is able to do these types of things on weekend nights at crazy busy clubs. It's refreshing to meet a big celebrity and them not talk about how much cash they're sitting on, or how famous they are. With Beca, she rarely ever mentions it to the point where you forget completely that she's a high class celebrity, but when she does, it takes you off guard at the realization she's a super sexy witch hunter _and_ a successful, super sexy music producer.

"On a Sunday night at… _eleven_?" you comment when you glance over at your bedside clock and check the time that's not _exactly_ eleven, but it's close and still considered _late_ to be going out to clubs at the end of the weekend. Beca's eyes never once leave your face, and her burning stare can be felt the entire time, even when you aren't looking directly at her. "What about classes?" you ask when returning your gaze on Beca.

"This is the city, Chlo. Sleeping is for the weak in adult world and for classes, I promise you'll be back no later than three in the morning, giving you just enough time for your Sociology class at eight."

"I don't have that class on Mondays, just Tuesdays and Thursdays." You might have processed this to come out as an excuse not to leave and help your case about staying in tonight, but all it does is light Beca up like a Christmas tree, tugging the corners of her mouth even higher.

"Even better," Beca counters with a grin slowly turning evil. "More time with you for me."

The offer is very tempting; a whole night in the city with Beca while she spins, along with great music and alcohol being a guarantee.

"How am I going to sneak out?"

"Through the front... _door_?"

Now Beca is looking at you like you're an idiot because she knows damn well that sneaking out, as of lately, has been a talent you have discovered late in your age and, okay, _perhaps,_ that was a really stupid question, but it doesn't hurt to ask if she plans on having you scale the house or not since she's an expert at it by now.

"Who goes out on Sunday nights anyways?"

"I go out on Sunday nights."

"You're also a witch hunter and a _witch_ , so that's not too surprising." Beca's forehead falls forward from her low chuckles and rests it above yours, muttering a _touché_ under her breath that pokes out a victorious smile from you. "But luckily for you, I love clubs, dancing and found a sudden craving for Mai Tai, so you don't have to twist my arm." You lean your face up to peck Beca's half grin before smacking her butt in a small rhythm to give you room to get up. "Plus, I'm _dying_ to see you spin. I've youtubed all your performances and honestly, even in HD, the videos don't do justice."

"Oh, look who's stalking now."

Tossing a wink over your shoulder at Beca, neither confirming nor denying that you spent _hours_ googling DJ BMitch today while avoiding the girl herself-obviously for therapeutic reasons-you hop up off your bed and make a beeline for your closet to find an outfit to wear. It's not everyday you're invited to a club in the city of Atlanta, outside of the frequent ones you go to around Barden, so you needed to look your best. Plus, with some yummy eye candy you were able to tie down for yourself, trying to impress Beca into a speechless mess might or might not be the top goal for the night.

"And _Mai Tai_? Is that the drink where pineapple and cherry are used as garnishes?" Beca asks curiously from the bed, now perched up on her elbows, her legs crossed at the ankles and is watching your actions as you dig through your closet with a purpose, tossing shirts out left and right after a brief inspection.

"You hating on my drink choices?" You deadpan while pausing your search to look at Beca laying on your bed like a goddamn _model_ who is about to be painted, lips red, swollen and hair all askew.

"It's a little _fruity_ ," Beca admits honestly, biting her lip to keep her smiles under control.

"It's _pretty,_ " you correct sternly and turn to go back to searching for a dress when a smile it felt twitching at the corners of your mouth. "Also there's an umbrella in the drink. So really, it's a _win_ _win_ all around."

"You're pretty," Beca announces all of a sudden, stealing your words with slight modification.

As well as your _heart_.

You pause your movements and take a timid look over your shoulder, keeping majority of your blush blanketed by your body and hair. It's the little compliments and gestures that really sweep you off your feet and turn you tomato _red_ in the face and your insides mushy.

You've came to many conclusions over the past day or so, but another one that you've made is that Beca wears a smug look _ninety_ _nine_ point _nine_ percent of the time, similar to how she's staring at you right now. She's also unmasking her sweet, tender side to you; it's like you guys print the bold label " **girlfriends** " on your foreheads and all of a sudden you two are those mushy, lovey dovey, _can't get enough of you_ couple.

But you like this side of Beca; her sweet side where she touches you a lot, stares at you like you're telling her the most interesting story and tells you sweet things that makes your insides all warm and gooey.

You also really, _really_ like her wild, bad girl side, filled with sarcastic comments, eye rolls, huffs and puffs, snarky remarks, and a whole repertoire of curse words she spills every other syllable.

Yeah, that's the side that _really_ turns you on.

Plus she can shoot a gun pretty dang well, which is a definite panty drop.

"I'm pretty?" Pointing an accusing finger at yourself, you echo Beca's compliment like you didn't hear her clear enough when in reality, you just want to hear her say it again.

And again.

And again.

And maybe for the rest of your life.

Beca doesn't respond; she only stares at you from the bed, lip caught snugly between her teeth while her eyes scan you up and down repeatedly. Standing up from the mattress, she slowly closes the distance separating you two in the room and grabs at your waist; a spot her hands have found _quite_ the interest towards lately, you've noticed.

"Sure," she finally answers, short, simple and sweet and your body turns to stone when you feel her body now pressed up against yours. "You're also beautiful, intelligent, wonderful, optimistic, caring, courageous, daring." Her gaze is strong on you, and it's intimidating being under such a powerful look to make you crumble into the ground and make you feel _ant_ size. She sees your vulnerability and leans in closely to your ear, and you shiver even before she whispers the next part. "You're also so _fucking_ addicting that I have a hard time controlling myself when I'm around you."

Her gravelly voice is enough to make your knees shake to a crumble and the added growl in her tone vibrates through your ear, enough to make you slip an audible whimper before shutting your eyes, hoping to get a grip of yourself and not succumb so easy to Beca, especially if now she's your girlfriend. You need to build tougher skin sooner or later unless you want to end up dead, even though Beca is the hot, bad ass of Barden you were lucky enough to bag up and you want to be alive to experience all your hard work.

"You also kind of make me really fucking nervous," Beca steers back out onto the road away from dangerous territory where her low voice is capable of combusting you without any physical contact. She snickers at her words with a shake to her head, and she takes a step away from you, but keeps her hands grasped firmly on either side of your waist.

"Me?" You point accusingly at yourself, again, but this time honestly confused. You blink dumbly with a shocked expression and roll your eyes when given a sarcastic response from Beca that went along the lines of who else would she be talking to if you two are the only ones in the room. "You make _me_ nervous! I'm just a normal girl from Tampa who loves people and puppies. _You_ are Beca Mitchell, DJ extraordinaire from Los Angeles, who kills witches and shoots guns and stuff. Sorry, Becs, but that screams intimidation and trust me, you intimidate the Hell out of me."

"I don't know. There's just something about you that I can't resist." Beca's eyes scan you up and down your body as if she's trying to find what she's looking for, examining every inch in a less predatorial type of way, but nonetheless still nerve wracking She does this for a few moments, deep in thought until she looks at her phone, checking the time. "Anyways, I gotta go back and get ready; it shouldn't take that long. How bout I leave you to change and swing by to pick you up?"

"You need to get ready?" You ask incredulously while taking a look at Beca appearance.

It's nothing different from her usual daily wear; a black tank top underneath her black leather jacket while matching perfectly with some ripped, black skinny jeans and boots this time instead of her converse. Her hair is even done flawlessly, loose curls that were probably tighter in the morning, but still holding up nicely. All around, Beca looks _amazing_ , as she always does, and you tell her this, questioning why she has to get ready when she already looks great.

"You get to see me in my own habitat, Red. Leather jackets won't do where I'm taking you, unless you want me to get heat stroke."

You nod your head in understanding and go back to scan for possible outfit candidates for tonight. "Quick question, how on earth do you get your hair so luscious and shiny all the time?" You ask with full seriousness and maybe a little envy mixed in the question. Your hair is high on the scale ranging from greasy mess to Selena Gomez in a Pantene commercial, but for Beca's hair, she breaks the scale and it's kind of unfair.

"Coconut oil, duh," Beca answers in her usual smart ass way, accompanied with a nonchalant shrug and her lips twist upwards into her signature smirk when you turn around to face her. "And cause I'm a witch."

"Yes...you...are," you growl each word through a wolfish grin, tugging at Beca's belt loops to bring her closer until you close the distance between you two, capturing her smirking lips in a slow kiss. Making sure you get enough of Beca's lips for the time being, you push her away before crossing your arms at the bottom of your tank top before discarding the clothing

"Oh, I'm pretty confident about... _all of this_." Even though it's pointless because Beca's eyes are already glued to the area, you gesture with your hands above your body, confident in your response. How else would you show off all your hard work at the gym and brand new, matching set of red lacy underwear, especially _now_ since you have someone worth showing all these things off to.

"You should be." Beca is still leering hard at your half-nude body, but manages to get this out through a very uncharacteristic squeak. "Alright, I gotta get out of here before we never leave." Though she doesn't exactly move like she wants to leave and instead a stay put, gawking at your body.

"Is that a threat? Because if so, very tempting, Ms. Mitchell."

Because of the extra leering that happens to linger a little bit longer over the general area around your chest, you perform a bold move and reach one of your hands up your back to the clasp of your bra, even though you don't plan on taking it off right this second, switching into the bandeau you plan on wearing, but the playful teasing and the way Beca's eyes nearly bulged out from her skull when your fingers hover over the hooks is a sight just too amusing not to stop.

She tells you to stop, though, firm, quick and flustered, eyes pleading for you to remove your hand away from your bra under your laughs before she's backing away towards the window she just climbed into fifteen minutes ago. She also tells you that she'll be back for you when she's done getting ready and she's sure it won't take long; you could be ready in five if you really wanted to rush to the club, but you also need to take your time and really put effort into your outfit, hair, makeup and boobs.

With a final, "see you soon," as Beca jumps out of your window onto the roof, you jog over to where she's heading, grabs her wrist to prevent her from going any farther and in a swift movement, you tug her back into your room for a kiss goodbye that will hold you over until she gets back.

"Okay, now I'm good." you smack your lips, licking away Beca's delicious chapstick she always wears-or at least has been wearing whenever you two engaged in a heated make out. "I'll see you soon, trouble."

Beca steps out of the window, slowly back peddling away to keep her eyes on you until she has to turn around and climb down the tree she climbed up. When she's gone and the sounds of her car roars back to life, you head back to your closet in search for a perfect outfit to fit on a Sunday night in the city.

* * *

Beca comes back for you when you send a text saying that you're ready to go out and she arrives not only driving a brand new car- **truck** , _excuse_ _me_ \- that you've never seen before, but she's also wearing clothes that have never been seen before.

And they're very _nice_ clothes.

Did you mention that she isn't wearing her usual _black_ shade of wear, but instead a sleeveless, navy blue tank top? Yes, you know the color might as well be black, especially at nighttime, and you really have to squint to be able to tell that the color is blue, buts it's _not_ black.

And of course she's wearing similar color skinny jeans above a fancy pair of black heeled boots, _but_ , they don't have any rips or tears in them.

You know.

It's almost too maniacal to believe.

It's like watching a dog walk on its hind legs, or catching a pig flying.

There's no converse.

No leather jacket.

No heavy eye make up.

Beca looks jaw dropping _amazing_ , but even then the words don't fully sum up how _insanely_ attractive Beca looks right now.

Unashamed of your wandering eyes admiring Beca's entire frame and fully aware you're gaping like a lunatic, " _Shit_..." you breathe the only word coming to your mind when you are face to face with your girlfriend holding open the passenger door to her gigantic, spotless, midnight black Cadillac SUV that _no_ tiny person should be driving without a booster seat. "You look _hot_!"

"Oh these?" Beca plays dumb and gestures down her outfit with one of her crooked smiles, but you're too busy soaking in the image, admiring every inch on her tiny little frame head to toe to see the Cheshire Cat grin she has glowing. She waves off the imaginary compliment and pinches at your dress to somehow pull you in closer. "They're nothing. Lame clothes. _You_ , on the other hand, look _beautiful_."

You blush down at your cherry red cocktail dress, matching heels and the nail polish you reapplied after messing them up that one night you'll _never_ forget. The action is pointless; you know Beca can see right through the top of your head and the blossoming blush spreading across your skin. It's just that she knows all the right things to say and knows all of your buttons controlling your body to push.

Like the fact she can make you blush by even just a glance, even though you were never a ' _blushie_.' Yeah, you turned heads more times than you'd like, and you're not saying that in the cocky, " _I know I'm hot_ " way either, but because you have a lot of boosted self esteem and remember, you're confident about all that you've got, so duh you're going to flaunt whatcha momma gave yah.

But _God_ , Beca and the little compliments and the looks she throws at you gives flustered a new meaning.

"Seriously, Becs, you look _extra_ yummy tonight." Really it's the truth; she tastes deliciously, like fresh mint from her chapstick when you lean in and kiss her slowly, and her hair radiates off a heavenly coconut scent, which is one of the many reasons why you deepen the liplock for a little more, just not content with only _one_ kiss.

Resting your forehead above hers when you settle in enough, you barely have to glance up at Beca and notice her hair is different as well than how she usually does it, more simple but nonetheless _flawless_. So flawless that you're actually, one hundred percent jealous. "I like what you got going on here." You twirl at the lower piece of Beca's hair around your fingers. She has one side pinned up by a bobby pin, exposing her industrial piercing, other ear spikes and chiseled jaw line while the other side hangs delicately in a stylist, loose waves.

All of it, of course, adding to Beca's maleficent, jaw dropping appearance.

"I also like the truck," your eyes float away from Beca's hair to the beast in the road behind you guys.

It's not the mustang that you've grown quite the loving towards- and not just because Beca looks insanely hot driving a stick- but the SUV is very impressive, to say the least. Plus it makes Beca look even tinier, which makes her a crazy amount of adorable.

"What's next? You going to admit you drive a motorcycle or something?"

"Oh for sure," Beca chirps and you can't tell whether or not she's being sarcastic about it, because she's smirking at you, and her smirk can mean a hundred of different innuendos, and it's really just confusing. "But back in Los Angeles."

Okay, she's definitely not joking about the motorcycle thing and why isn't it a shock to you that you whimper at the mental images created of Beca, decked out in her leather, black aviators and smoking a cigarette on top of a Harley such a turn on?

That's right.

Because it is a complete, _gut_ _wrenching_ turn on.

"Maybe after all this blows over I can take you for a ride on it."

She doesn't let you answer before she steals your attention away from the truck and to her lips instead, though the answer would've been _Hell_ _yes_. Motorcycles are scary and they're extremely dangerous; that's a fact, but so is Beca. She's terrifying, and intimidating, but she's also exciting, a mystery around every corner and the most fun you've ever been apart of.

Breaking the silence and appearing out of nowhere, "Come on lovebirds! I need to get my drink on!"

You recognize the voice immediately, though you didn't plan on being joined by company tonight, especially if it's heard in the backseat of Beca's truck.

Leaning your body over the seat, "Stacie?" You peek your head into the door and are greeted with not only one, but two teasing grins from the backseat. "Aubrey? You guys came out-and are wearing... _wigs_?" you ask questioningly when putting the pieces together that Stacie and Aubrey basically reversed their hair color on each other.

"Duh we came out!" Stacie, now a _blonde_ , tall drink of water showing off her God given legs and assets in a short, black dress answers your question with an enthusiastic, 'duh, _Chloe_ ,' chirp; you are still processing that just changing someone's hair color could make them look like a completely different people. "We've been cooped up in Beca's cabin mansion for what feels like _ages_!" she drawls out tiredly, but Beca quickly reminds her that it's only been two days and she counters back with a middle finger.

"We didn't want to stay in while you guys had all the fun, so when I caught Beca getting ready and _dolled_ up, I declared that Stacie and I were coming too since our lives for the next month or so are going to change _drastically,_ and lots of alcohol seems like the perfect remedy for the shit happening at the Bellas' house."

You can hear the harshness and perhaps even sadness coming from Aubrey's tone despite the inability to make out a picture of her expression due to the darkness in the truck, but could assume it matched her bitter response. You know this news is a lot to handle for both Aubrey and Stacie, especially now that they have to pretend to be missing and stay quarantined inside Beca's deserted cabin in the woods away from friends, studies and even family, so you don't have anything to say to this, nor go against it other than an excited cheer to get on the road to get this night started.

Who knows when the next time will be when all you guys are free from witches and are in the clear from being killed. Better use this time wisely before things go to shit.

* * *

You've been to the city many times throughout your years staying at Barden, but tonight, downtown feels different. It _looks_ different, and you can't help but put Beca under the spotlight when taking in the new brightness and unfamiliar aroma added to the already glowing place; a place where apparently people never sleep who live for partying like it's their job.

Seriously, it's absolutely manically how many people are out and about on a Sunday night when you planned on testing out a new face mask to use while listening to music and eventually falling asleep.

Maybe do some homework, but let's not talk about that and avoid being called a nerd.

It only takes about thirty minutes of light chatter in the vehicle until Beca's pulling into a reserved parking lot connected to the large, glowing building called Havana where a bunch of other up-class, fancy cars are parked. A handful of bouncers greet you not even a foot out the door and give their 'hellos' before warning Beca about paparazzis swarming the front entrance.

You can sense she's irritated before she visibly shows her frustration through her clipped tone to the bouncers and orders them to at least try to clear up the area to avoid pictures. Of course, pictures would be taken regardless because of Beca's social rank-which really makes you wonder why more people at school don't go ballistic whenever they see her. You assume college kids have way more important things to tackle, like passing school and staying away from hard drugs rather than ' _fangirling_ ' over a celebrity who barely ever shows herself in the daylight.

You, Aubrey and Stacie stand back away from the conversation Beca is having with the bouncers, patiently waiting for the next move since this area is all new territory for you three. Beca pinches the bridge of her nose, signaling the end of the conversation before she gives the bouncers an annoyed "okay."

She walks over to where you guys are standing, warning all of you to brace yourselves after an apology in advance before taking your hand and pulling you in the right direction behind the bouncers who take the lead.

You thought you prepared yourself well enough for whatever it was that Beca warned you about, but once the flashing lights from a group of cameras caught your eye, you honestly think you might be blind. For the most part, you all keep your heads down, facing away from the cameras; Aubrey and Stacie especially due to the fact that they're technically _missing_ , and even though they look completely different, anyone who recognizes their faces would ruin pretty much _everything_.

With your hand clasped gently in hers, fingers tangled around each other as you follow in tow behind your girlfriend as she maneuvers the group inside the club, you sink under the warm, fluttering feeling of Beca-without a gun pointed to her head-deliberately reached out for your hand to hold in public, even though you _know_ the main reason is so the two of you don't get separated.

But you push that away for now and just savor the fact that Beca is openly holding your hand.

It doesn't take long before everyone is inside away from the crowd and is being lead to the VIP section of the club, which is by far the fanciest nightclub you've ever been to, not that you've been to a lot of them, _per_ _se_ , but still. The place is _huge,_ loud, and it's crazy busy, which could've been picked up from the line outside that wrapped around the corner.

At the bar, you're surprised to see a familiar looking face and a warm, British welcoming, along with a hug when he sees the group walking up to the bar. "Do you bartend at every bar in the state of Georgia!?" You have to _scream_ your question over the DJ playing his set right now because the music is so loud you can barely hear your thoughts and hope you didn't just burst Luke's eardrum.

Luke cheeks a half smile; one kind of similar to Tom's, but far less _douchey_ and more charming. "Of course, mate!" He goes back to pouring drinks for his customers while managing to keep his attention on you, multitasking at its _finest_. "Anywhere Beca goes, I go!"

"Sadly," Beca grumbles this and reaches out for her drink on the table that Luke already had prepared; whiskey on the rocks, which you can infer is her usual and favorite choice of alcohol. You know this by the immediate smell of poison that radiated out from her mouth when she spoke again, a smell present last time you were stuck in a bar with Beca. "You our server tonight?"

Luke nods his head with a winning smile and you try not to get second hand wasted from the amount of whiskey Beca just downed like water. It's her only one, however, before she's asking Luke to scramble up his best Mai Tai for you, a Gin and Tonic for Stacie and a Blue Hawaiian for Aubrey. During his preparations for all the drink orders, he offers a cigarette to Beca that's caught behind his ear over his buzzed cut hair on the side of his head and is shocked to see Beca turning it down by pushing the stick away.

"Not tonight, Lukey."

He doesn't budge very easily and his confusion towards Beca turning down something that's been an automatic yes for years only grows. "What happened to your ritual before you got on stage? An order of the devil's urine with a side of black smoke? You never go without these two."

"Chloe happened," is Beca's quick response back to an incredulous looking Luke, the spotlight now shining bright above you and other than the swelling your heart does, you don't really know how to respond to the attention, so you don't, and are relieved to hear Beca start speaking again."I quit...well I'm _trying_ to quit. Haven't smoked in three days."

Proud of how well Beca is doing, you wrap around her arm and drop a wet kiss to her cheek. Luke's eyes bounce back and forth between you two suspiciously and then gravitate lower to see that Beca is still- _surprisingly_ \- holding your hand, not that you're complaining.

Topic now officially changed, "Bloody _finally_!" Luke drawls out the word through his megawatt grin and gives his congratulations on sealing the deal about you and Beca becoming a thing. "I don't know how much longer I could take experiencing you two fight off the obvious."

"Great things take time," you respond and lean your head over Beca's shoulder, kissing her knuckles when you lift up your conjoined hands to your mouth while Luke nearly faints by the gesture. Must be hard to grasp the idea of the notorious bad ass being tied down and affectionate with someone else in public and you will-until the day you die- take advantage of it. "And apparently Beca pulling her head out of her ass to realize we would be the _perfect_ , witch hunting couple like... _ever."_

Luke finishes topping off two shots for you both when Beca declines the third one and slides it across the table for you to catch. "Cheers to that, mate." You both lift up the clear liquid, clinking the shot glasses together before throwing them back.

You have no idea what poison you just drowned your body in and what is causing your throat to catch on fire, but whatever _acid_ it is makes you splutter out a series of just noises while all the hair on our body raises from the god awful taste. Mid choking fit, you sense Beca smiling humorously at you while her hand rubs small circles on your back, easing the burn and suppressing the urge to laugh at you by biting her bottom lip.

"Nothing like starting off the night with some Moonshine, Little Red Riding Hood." Luke, who isn't even the slightest bit affected by the alcohol spins the bottle expertly back onto the display shelf and you nearly choke again by just the clarification of what you just drank. You aren't too familiar with most liquor, but you happen to know a little about certain beverages, especially beverages that might just kill you by a single shot with being 100% ABV proof.

Good _God_ , someone better have the ambulance on speed dial if you plan on surviving the night.

"Hard liquor?" A new voice comes up to the scene when they arrive back from the bathroom, acquainted with another tall presence walking behind. "Are you sick?" Once you're sure the burn from the alcohol and urge to spit it back up has vanished, you twist your body to see Aubrey raising the back of her hand to press against your forehead as if she is checking our temperature, concerned and highly confused to your drink choice. "That's not like you at all. What happened to your Mike's Hard Lemonades and wine coolers?"

"Trust me, a lot has change while you two were out," you wheeze, patting Aubrey's shoulder to assure that even though your lungs are on fire, you'll live, though your recent alcohol choices might end up killing you. It's not like you _knew_ that Luke's plan is trying to get you black out wasted and basically drugged you into taking the strongest shot of alcohol in the bar.

You're innocent by all means.

"Now who are these two lovely ladies?" Luke does the honors of granting both Stacie and Aubrey with a dazzling smile to go along perfectly with his charming British accent, passing them their drinks Beca ordered for them while they were gone.

You greet the three strangers properly with short introductions; you tell Luke that Stacie is a new addition to the Bellas while Aubrey is your best friend and co-head sister at the Bellas. Beca mostly does the introduction for Luke in her own _Beca_ way, telling your sisters about he's an asshole, British witch hunter like herself, but far more annoying. Luke once getting the rest of his customers settled finds both girls rather intriguing, though he pays a little more attention to Stacie, who feeds off of the flirty behavior and wandering eyes like she's been deprived from human, opposite sex interaction for a hundred years.

And you think Aubrey, under her new, surprisingly fitting brunette wig, turns a _bright_ shade of green when you follow her gaze over to the couple talking intently with each other in a dangerously close position, which could be blamed because of the loud music and they couldn't hear each other, or the fact Stacie talks to anybody in that close of proximity.

Either way, it definitely sparks up the need for some much needed _girl_ _talk_ about certain questions flooding your head now that Aubrey is coherent and returned as your best friend, so she'll be able to honestly answer any-Stacie- questions you have in mind.

Beca finishes her Whiskey and sets the empty glass on the table, announcing mid burn in her chest from the liquor, "okay, I'm heading to the bathroom then going up to the booth," when stage crew warns her that the DJ's set before her's is wrapping up shortly. "You good?"

You erratically shake your head to prove a point that you're more than good- _excited_ and _eager_ to see your girlfriend's performance is sending your happiness gauge through the roof. Also, with the help of Luke's shot he gave you that is somehow already making your face hot and is going straight to your head. Perhaps he poisoned you, you don't really know, nor do you care because Beca is minutes away from taking the stage and you at least _hope_ you don't die before then.

"Dedicate a song for me?" you ask hopeful while grabbing at Beca's wrists and generate a certain sparkle to your eyes that most people have a hard time saying no to. "You look like a Chris De Burgh fan and since I'm _technically_ a lady who happens to be in red, the choice fits perfectly."

Beca shoots down your request faster than you can even blink with an even faster shake to her head. "Absolutely not. I fucking _hate_ that song."

Aubrey gasps loudly at this statement, clutching a hand to her heart as if she was personally offended by Beca's response since you know for a fact the song is on her most played playlist on her phone, along with Ace of Base and Madonna.

"You hate every song!" Despite the mutual hatred over the song choice, you whine at Beca's stoney scowl that eventually turns into a laugh before she's telling you that she might have something special planned for her set that involves you, so you take it, because something is better than nothing, especially if it's _special_.

She gives you a kiss that lingers long over your lips and drops a few lighter pecks until you're a giggling mess from the gesture and tells you that she'll see you afterwards, leaving a whiskey taste in your mouth and your lips cold from where hers once were.

Stacie hops away from the bar when she impressively chugs the last little bit of her drink and follows in tow behind Beca, announcing that she needs to go to the bathroom and would happily join the DJ. There's an uneasy feeling in your stomach when Stacie throws her tree trunk for an arm around Beca's shoulders while they walk, like, Beca is completely capable of walking to the bathroom on her own and doesn't need to see a face full of _boobs_ to walk straight _._

It also doesn't help that before Stacie was turned, she had loads of comments about the freshman, all them revolving around how _insanely_ hot Beca is in her own mysterious, trouble making way, so the twitching urge to slap Stacie like you did Aubrey was _very_ tempting, which this whole jealousy thing is brand new to you, so slapping anyone who comes in contact with your girlfriend is your immediate reflex.

But you shake it off for now, fisting your hands together while you watch the tight pair leave the area and wouldn't hesitate giving that tall drink of water for a second a palm full of fury if Stacie were to try something.

You decide to yell a little something before the duo is out of sight. "I hate to see you go, but _love_ to watch you leave!" Beca turns around with a deadpan mask when she hears you yell this across the VIP section of the club and shakes her head embarrassingly when you throw in some flirty whistles, definitely taking your time to appreciate Beca's backside as she walks away.

Because let's get something straight.

Beca has a very, _very_ nice ass.

And as a girlfriend, it's your duty to admire and gawk at these things in the middle of public places, reminding Beca just how cute her tiny little butt is.

When Beca and Stacie are no longer in sight, you twist your attention back to Luke and Aubrey who are now talking, pointing over in the direction where Beca walked away. "We are dating." Your megawatt, unable to contain the size smile matches perfectly with our cheery, somewhat in denial announcement and you understand the two already know this information but it doesn't stop you from telling them again. "Like actual _girlfriends_. Isn't that crazy?" you clarify with amazement mixed with adjuration, the label of what you and Beca are considered still not something you believe fully, but ecstatic about the label being used.

"I see that," Luke chuckles at your lovesick, schoolgirl behavior while Aubrey eyes you skeptically. You already know her opinions on Barden's rebellious, _bad_ _girl_ and could take a rough guess what she thinks now that you're dating Barden's rebellious, _bad_ _girl_ , but her scolding isn't going to affect your already wonderful night. "I hate to say this, but I'm just a guy looking out for his mate, you aren't like...treating Beca like a _social_ _experiment_ right?"

All buzzing, elated emotions get sucked right out from your expression and is replaced with a look of pure shock and offense that Luke would even think you'd do something like this to Beca. "Of course not!"

"I know most likely you're not, but I'm just asking because Beca has been through serious shit that messed her up bad, and the whole stopped smoking thing just brought along some questions. I know how much you fancy the little shit; I saw it back at the bar and can _definitely_ see it now with the way you two look at each other. It's _bloody_ nauseating almost."

Honestly, you understand where Luke is coming from; you'd do the same for Aubrey if the roles were reversed. The part about Beca being through a lot of stuff doesn't fully make sense, but you chose to not ask Luke about it, knowing you'd rather hear it from Beca when she's ready than going behind her back to learn about her personal life.

"I really, _really_ like her, Luke," you assure in the most raw, sincere way your tone could form, pouring all your honesty out of your eyes when you don't even blink to Luke when admitting this out loud for him and even Aubrey to hear.

And he gives you a curt nod while mixing up some cocktails, then forms a charming smile that lets you know he believes you, like you just got the approval from the best friend and it lights up your body once again.

Luke leaves you and Aubrey together while he cleans up and does his other bartender duties other than killing you with unknown shots her slides your way across the table and tries to pluck out any juicy secrets about yours and Beca's relationship. You play with the umbrella in your drink, along with the added double pineapple Luke specifically only gave to your drink when you admitted that the fruit was the best part. As you're mindlessly twirling the accessories, you don't think you're being too obvious that your main attention is stuck on Aubrey, but it apparently is when she orders to to stop staring at her funny because it is freaking her out.

"Do you like Stacie?" You ask without a hitch. You don't see the point to fluff around the question when it's Aubrey who the question is directed to; the one person who _hates_ when people sidestep the main issue.

Aubrey chuckles darkly, but you can assume it's not the humorous, _ha-ha_ type of laugh. "Is it that obvious?" Her attention falls down to her drink and where her fingers are tracing around the circle at the top of her glass, avoiding any eye contact from you; a warning you picked up early on in the friendship that you hit a soft spot, but are glad that Aubrey isn't avoiding the question like she's notorious for.

"I mean, _kinda_." You shrug your shoulders and hope you didn't somehow cross the line with your reply. "I only ask because you guys had quite an... _interesting_ relationship when you two were under the rum. Now, I can't help but notice the way you look at Stacie when she talks and even how you talk to her differently than anyone else. It reminds me of Beca and myself post dating when I felt elated just to breathe the same air she breathed."

"My parents would _shun_ me if I were to ever come out as bisexual to them."

This is surprising news to you and it takes you off guard hearing it come from your best friend who _claimed_ to be straight as an arrow, though you had your suspicion, but knew even if Aubrey was confused about her sexual orientation that her parents, who are _extremely_ religious and old fashioned would never see the news as a good thing and would most likely see Aubrey as sick. Guess you never actually thought you'd be the right one in this scenario and hearing it out loud is equally startling as it is satisfying.

"But maybe they...won't?" You try- _God_ , you _try_ to make this sound believable and keep your optimism high, but knowing Aubrey's scary dad you couldn't even fool yourself. It doesn't even make sense because Aubrey's parents love you and you're a _flaming_ homosexual (literally) so why couldn't they accept their own daughter? "Have you talked to Stacie?"

"Oh God no." Aubrey mutters and you know it's a stupid question, but maybe if Aubrey would express how she feels for the girl it'd stop Stacie from openly flirting with anyone in sight and bring along the possibilities of potentially dating. "But she _is_ bisexual, I've heard lots of stories. Honestly, I think she just likes hot people."

"Then there is no way she doesn't like you!" You exclaim hopeful and reach to lay a comforting hand on top of Aubrey's arm, thankfully she doesn't pull away and even more surprising she gives you a small, tight lip smile. She does, however, redirect the conversation back to you and off her complicated love life when she asks how Beca purposed the girlfriend question to you.

And _obviously_ you're going to "girl" out about the fact that Beca, hands down, pulled the most romantic gesture someone has ever done for you; a movie quality type of stunt.

So you tell Aubrey all the details of earlier tonight; the _Say_ _Anything_ reference-which earns a girly squeal from the blonde, knowing just how much you two love the movie- the fitting music, how Beca pulled off a Romeo and climbed up a tree to get into your window before you guys made out for _at_ _least_ fifteen minutes without any breaks or pauses. Everything was better than perfect and even Aubrey seemed impressed by the midget, as she refers to Beca as, which is good news to see her lightening up about the idea of you two dating.

Before she could respond, though, someone on stage quiets down the club with an announcement of tonight's very special guest they're lucky to have and you take a hold of Aubrey's wrist, nearly yanking off her arm from her body when you pull her in the direction of the dance floor where everyone is swarming the dance floor and going _ballistic_ for the upcoming DJ. Also, the floor is where you run into Stacie, who is unashamedly joining the ear piercing cheers with a few added males clung onto her frame to share the excitement.

Beca's on stage before you know it, amping up the crowd and mostly looking the same other than the bleach white earphones dangling around her neck. Her usual smug, cocky smirk is as bright as the LED lights around club and strobes that are nearly blinding you. There's a sort of swagger she's presenting herself with as she cues up an instrumental beat before the start of one of your personal favorites of hers, "Complicated," featuring Kiiara, and it doesn't take long until your hips move along to the beat of the bass shaking the walls and you're dancing shamelessly with Aubrey and Stacie.

And really you're dancing with _anyone_ who is remotely sharing the same enthusiasm you're glowing with when Beca, as hot as ever, is controlling every single person's hips in this club by a simple twist of a dial, or push to a button.

Girls, half dressed and way too flirty _wail_ out for Beca to gain the DJ's attention and if you weren't already so drunk, your territorial side would've made an appearance, giving each and every one of these _sloozies_ a slap, but it also feels good to know that Beca's attention is glued to you and you only.

And it feels really, _really_ good.

Somehow, you aren't really sure how she did it, but she finds you dancing in the crowd and gives you a look that's up to no good. With the microphone she pulled from some unknown place in the booth, Beca announces her next song she co-produced with Max and Flux Pavilion is dedicated to a very certain someone who happens to drive her animalistic _wild,_ eyes and crooked smirk still glued on you and transitions into "Savage" before the crowd goes insane and there's literally not a single person sitting in the club.

Maybe you add a little extra sway to your hips when you see that Beca hasn't taken her eyes off you since the very moment she scouted you out. Maybe you purposely allow your hands to roam over every inch of your body as you switch from grinding on Stacie, to grinding on Aubrey, and end up with your hands knotting through your hair, flipping it in every direction with a playful bite to your lip.

Maybe it's evil and distracting for Beca when she has bigger things to focus on tonight- though she seems very intrigued by your dancing, but it's definitely all worth it when you see that little shake of her head and her smirk only growing wider before she's chuckling to herself and eating you alive from the booth.

And this time you don't feel intimidated by the look. Instead, the look only encourages you to dance slower and more punctual, teasing Beca by showing her just what she's missing.

Her up there, performing like she is born to do so is extremely intoxicating, and it's then while being mesmerized by such a rawly talented, supremely humble and criminally sexy person that you feel a hundred times more drunk than how you felt before your second Mai Tai Luke made for you. Kinda a little star struck, too.

You admire everything there is about Beca; the little bob her head does to the best of the music she's mastered and created perfectly, the way she nips at the corner of her lip when she's making a smooth transition, the way your insides are being _slaughtered_ by both these observations and how she genuinely seems happy up in that booth.

The happiest you've ever seen her before.

And it warms you in ways words can't even describe seeing and experiencing Beca doing what she loves, _flawlessly,_ while people are bowing at her feet from below like she runs this club.

It's also really _freaking_ surreal that this same, ridiculously talented person happens to be your _freaking_ girlfriend.

And that's pretty _freaking_ **awesome**.

* * *

By the time you guys make it to your spot in the middle of the woods off a cliff, high above the city skyline of Atlanta where you previously were at once Beca's set has finished and Luke offered to take Aubrey and Stacie back to Beca's cabin, your intoxication levels have subsided. They haven't gone away completely; your face is still on fire and your vision is slightly altered, but it's loads better than before back at the club.

Yes, it's true that you had three of those Mai Tais, a few drinks from both of Aubrey's and Stacie's drink, that Moonshine shot, and you're _certain_ that Luke made the last drink of yours the strongest, but the alcohol wasn't the only thing that made you feel dizzy and nauseous from all the butterflies. Beca is not an innocent party considering how drunk you acted and there's nothing else to blame but her raw talent on the turntables and the way she controlled your body with her music on the dance floor for you high levels of intoxication.

Beca has now overflowed with hotness, broke the scale into flakes of dust with no hope for ever building it back together.

And because your head is still spinning uncontrollably and you're parked in the middle of the woods, alone, with the main reason for you being groggy in the brain sitting in the driver's seat, operating the music she has playing as background noise makes it harder for you not to act on these urges to devour the girl.

It's about half way through the playlist, about a third of the way into Aerosmith's "Crazy" which Beca does the honors of serenading you with her voice that you act upon your urges and teleport from your seat into Beca's lap, straddling the girl's thighs between your own, ignoring the uncomfortable feeling of the steering wheel jabbed into the lower part of your spine and focus on the way Beca tastes like pure heaven and whiskey.

Things go from fast and heated, to hypersonic and _boiling_ with the way Beca's hands take give no hesitation before roaming your body, clawing at the skin over your thighs where your dress has been pushed up while her tongue tears your insides to shreds. You inhale sharply against Beca's lips when her hands inch painfully slow up your thighs, moving higher just underneath the material of your dress at the bottom until her palms are filled with new skin that emits a throaty moan from you in return.

Beca feeds off the noise and how your legs basically tremble when she begins groping at your backside and you feel her smug smirk threatening to poke out on her lips where your mouth is cemented to. It's a spot Beca has touched before; her hands have a habit of going straight to your butt to pull you in closer when you two make out, not that you have an issue with it, but would prefer your body _not_ to react the way it does whenever she does grabs at the area.

But compared to all the other times, she is touching _a lot_ more skin than you're use to, no thanks to the underwear choices you've made tonight that went well with the right dress and because of this, you may or may not be experiencing the beginning of a major panic attack by how easy your hips begin to gradually move slowly into a grinding motion above Beca's lower stomach to create more friction for the increasing throbs between your thighs.

And _that's_ what really scares you shitless.

Her mouth kisses you passionately, slow and tender, but her hands are strong and aggressive with their squeezes, and you have to fist your hands together with her hair in between your fingers to remain composed, hiding the fact you're _seconds_ away from exploding from nerves. Coaxing them away does everything but do the trick to settle you into a realm of easy breathing and tranquility, and you're stuck on a non stopping plane full of turbulence that you need get off or stop before the plane ends up crashing.

And it definitely doesn't help keep you calm that Beca is showing off yet _another_ hidden talent of hers that you've been accustomed to the past few days and can bet your bottom dollar that if your tongue was a cherry stem, there'd be _multiple_ knots.

Your stomach clenches to hold in a whimper when she nips at your lips, but the defense is useless when she removes her lips away from yours and sucks the skin down your throat until she's kissing the skin on your chest, squeezing out a _very_ shaky and _very_ distinct whimper when you press the side of your face to the top of her head, searching for strength to keep your breathing under control.

Especially when she slides the straps of your dress down your shoulders, giving more exposure to the skin she soon takes an open invitation to nip, suck and lick at the area above your bra _dangerously_ close to putting you into a coma. Seriously, you think your entire respiratory system broke off the cavity and sank to the pool of your gut once you felt the warm, wetness of Beca's lips leaving invisible marks at the top of your cleavage.

But you're too frozen to move away-though it's not entirely what you wanted- too stunned to even think straight and basically suffocating for air with the sensation of where Beca's hands and mouth are roaming.

The nerves amplify by a _million_ and that annoying red alarm in your head is going haywire for you to stop this before you guys go any farther. You don't need to do or say anything, however, because when Beca kisses at your chest just above the brim of your dress, the inner part of your breasts, you're sure she can feel your heartbeat _pounding_ violently against your ribcage to drum across her lips.

She doesn't say anything to you except feather a collection of lighter kisses over a spot on your chest a little bit higher than before, but though it's not much higher, you feel like you can finally breathe again. Instead of kissing the area, she rests the side of her face over your heart and removes her hands out from underneath your dress before straightening it out as best as she could with your straddling position and hooks her arms around your waist (above the dress) to cage around your lower back.

"Sorry."

You feel Beca mumble this above your chest in the hug, but you only know she's speaking by the vibration from her voice. Without it, you wouldn't have thought she said anything at all, not with the throbbing pulse from your heart hitting your senses and rattling your eardrums, though you don't exactly understand why she's apologizing in the first place. It's calmed down tremendously, but the aftermath of your mental panic attack might have scarred you.

"Kind of got ahead of myself there. I never brought a girl I care about to one of my performances without somehow dumping her to find someone new." At Beca's confession, you can catch a slight waver to her voice, and can feel her disgust over her actions without actually verbalizing them. "I guess I'm just really happy-maybe a little confused as to why a girl as perfect as you would go for an antisocial jerk, who kills witches like me, but I'm really fucking glad you did."

You smile into Beca's hair, your body still undergoing the process of rebuilding its strength back up to normal. When you you're sure your voice has returned and you've calmed your heavy breathing from the drastic increase in heart rate, you scramble up some words to reply back with, hopefully doing the justice to explain what nonsense is short wiring your head.

"Thank you for stopping," you eventually come back to life with, finding your voice under the piled up nerves that just hit you like hurricane Katrina. Your voice is all sorts of raspy and comes out shaky at bits, but your volume is almost normal and this time you can actually return with words.

Frankly, you didn't want Beca to stop because what she was doing to you felt amazing; it always does because she's gentle and rough all at the same time. You almost think that she knows your body better than you know it yourself, touching the right spots, pushing the _right_ buttons to make you feel _special_. It's frustrating more than relieving, to be honest. Yes, you expected to give whomever it was you were interested in a five date rule like Mila Kunis in _Friends With Benefits_ in fear of them leaving once sex is given, but you _want_ to go the extra mile with Beca because you _know_ she won't leave.

And it's lunatic, almost, that you have so much trust in her so early in the relationship, but there's something in the way she looks at you, talks to you and touches your skin-even in the most innocent gestures- that gives you a new sense of safety with the girl that you had with nobody else and let's you know she isn't going anywhere.

"What are you thinking about?"

You wonder how Beca could sense your brain is almost smoking by how hard it is running without even looking at you due to the fact she's still hugging your waist with her face pressed up snug against your chest, which, come on, is like the cutest thing ever. You unclasp your hands from Beca's hair once they defrost from the make out and wrap your arms around her shoulders, squeezing her tighter in the hug but not in a tight way where you're popping her eyeballs out.

"Just how...perfect this night is," you admit with an airy laugh that you can feel Beca mirroring. You know perfect is the max way to explain something _amazing_ , but how tonight ended up being with your friends and Beca, and how it's the most fun you've had in awhile due to everything going on with Barden, you are sure that whatever is beyond _perfect_ -if there is anything- is a word to describe tonight.

"I think you're perfect."

You emit a true laugh and think you squeeze Beca even tighter. Whether it's because you're being bombarded with flutters by her sudden compliments, or the fact that she's delusional to think you, Chloe Beale, are perfect. Either way, you melt into Beca's arms, feeling lightheaded, dizzy and a hint of nausea from being held by the girl of your dreams, you've realized.

"You're a dork."

"No seriously." There's a hint of chuckles slipping from Beca by the shake you feel across your chest, but her tone is serious, and then she's tearing her face away to look you directly in the eyes. "I've met a lot of great people, but no one even _compares_ to how amazing you are, Chloe."

"Are you just fluffing me up to get into my pants?" You make a joke out of the situation because you might faint from how heavy Beca's words are weighing on you and how you really don't want to cry in front of the girl, even though she's being the sweetest you've ever seen her.

She does let you know that seconds ago she _was_ in your pants, _dress_ to be exact, so she was able to do it without all the sweet talk and you shiver at the trueness when the boiling heat hits you in the gut like a ton of bricks at the memories

"Remember when you said that me being a virgin was stopping you from defining what we were at the time, but you didn't mean that... _right_?" Wavering in your voice happens unintentionally and you are regretting bringing this conversation back up because of what Beca might respond back with.

Because one thing you've learned and cherished about Beca is that she's always honest.

Perhaps _brutally_ honest, but you love it either way.

Except now it's _terrifying_.

"No!" Beca is immediate with her answer and you feel all the weight on your shoulders slide off with a relieved, ' _thank_ _God_ ' sigh to finish. "It...like...came out wrong last time. Really, _really_ wrong. I just...never was the one to take... _it..._ from somebody who meant a lot to me, so it's more than a little scary knowing there's expectations."

"Don't worry. I'm sure you'll make it very special for me," you assure with a smile and pop to the girl's nose, thankful that Beca isn't weirded out by you still being a virgin. You understand the label comes with a lot of scary things for both participants; you want the night to be perfect and beautiful while Beca wants to make sure she gives you this perfect, beautiful night in all forms.

"We can still make out?" You suggests with a playful wiggle to your eyebrows and you're rewarded with your favorite type of laugh from Beca.

"You can not be comfortable sitting like this, Chlo."

It's true; your legs are seconds away from cramping with a Charlie horse, the steering wheel is jammed into your tailbone and you have to remain still to avoid pressing the horn. You are, however, perfectly okay with making out in this uncomfortable position, no matter if your body is screaming at you to move off.

You could only imagine how inhumanly bent your body would be if you decided to straddle Beca in the driver's seat of her mustang, so you thank you lucky star that Beca opted on bringing a truck, as if she _knew_ the two of you would be making out at two o'clock in the morning in the middle of the woods like a couple of horny teenagers.

You shake your head no, and lean in to capture Beca's lips, but not before the driver's seat you two are sitting in slams down into the backseat and you fall directly on top of Beca with a major increase in heart rate from the unexpected drop and the culprit to your heart attack is smiling up at you from below, now almost laying in the seat.

"Is that better?"

The truth is the positioning is far better than before; your legs aren't nearly as cramped now that you're able to kind of lay your front on Beca without crushing the girl underneath and your back is free from the steering wheel, buts it's not the most comfortable position in the world want to be stuck in.

"For the front seat of a car, yes." You snicker and wiggle a little bit down Beca's thighs so your head is closer to her face rather than giving her a full view of your cleavage, not that you think she had an issue with the view when you catch her discreetly checking out your exposed skin. Which then lights the fire back up in your gut, wanting nothing more than to take her mind off your chest. "Now, kiss me, Romeo."

You move your face in once again, but unfortunately is only able to steal a kiss so light it shouldn't even be considered a kiss before Beca is pulling her face away, something a toddler would give their parents when saying goodbye.

"How bout we just lay here and talk?"

As much as you want to do something other than talk to Beca, preferably use your mouth elsewhere on the girl's body, you can't help but enjoy the idea of just hanging out with Beca, talking and listening to music playing softly in the background-though the suggestion to talk from a girl who usually _hates_ chit chatting brings up major curiosity.

You nod your head with a smile that only grows bigger when you feel Beca's hands trailing up your back and into your hair to switch between twirling each an individual strand around her fingers and combing her nails through your scalp as you lay your head above her chest.

"What do you want to talk about then since making out, weirdly, is pushed away for now." You tease and pepper kisses along her collarbone when you hear her scoff.

"We could talk about anything. Like, do you tilt a taco when you eat it, or tilt your head to eat a taco?" Beca randomly comes up with, pulling a chuckle out from you until curiosity gets the best of you when it comes to your answer and you pretend to take a bite out of your imaginary taco.

Getting your answer when performing the act and listening to Beca laughs while you do it, you reply back with, "tilt the head! No way would tilting the taco work because all of the stuff would fall out!"

"God, you're really fucking cute." Beca pauses her laughs just to say this, truly blown away by her observation as it's shown in her features as her eyes trace along every dip and curve of your face. "And definitely tilt the head. I would've had to break up with you if you said you were the one who tilts a taco. Can't trust those people."

Smiling at Beca's meaningless threat you know she wouldn't actually do, you give a soft and quick peck to Beca's curved lips, returning your position to lay your head above her chest. "You performed really good tonight," you know you've already told Beca this multiple times in the last couple hours after watching her set, but you can't help it. The girl reversed your blood stream or something when you watched her up on stage for the first time, creating something so _magical_ that even Kommissar and Gail would envy. "It's so strange knowing that all my favorite songs I played on my phone were created by you, my _girlfriend_."

Beca kisses the top of your head to show her appreciation. "I know it's a lot to take in, all the cameras, the fans and stuff, so thank you for baring with it."

"You're a witch hunter. I'm sure there's nothing, especially a few cameras, that will scare me away from you." This is true. Unless Beca flat out told you to stay away from her, then you'd consider staying away. _Consider_. There would still be lots of social media and real life stalking because the thought of staying away from Beca seems impossible. "You don't think Gail and Kommissar will see any pictures right? Of me being here with you?"

"Don't worry about the pictures, they're long gone."

You perk your head up from Beca's chest, suspicious to how all of a sudden the pictures taken from the paparazzi have just vanished. Sensing your suspicion, Beca continues, but not without drawling out a heavy sigh.

"I know this sounds really _fucking_ weird, but I have a few spells up my sleeve; one of them being a forgetful spell used by my own saliva-I know it's gross, but it was a quick way to get them under control!" Beca finishes quickly with a laugh once your face scrunches up with disgust. "I sent Luke out there with a plate of shots, I assume you can guess what I did with each individual shot and let's just say they don't even remember taking the pictures, nor do they recall we were even at the club."

"Is that why no one at Barden has the _slightest_ clue to who you are? You have hit singles, won a handful of Grammys, even at your age, and are _crazy_ famous!" You head floats off into another dimension that quickly lights up your body with a widen to your eyes and a gape to your mouth. " _That's_ why your private life on social media is non existent! I just assumed you were great at hiding from paparazzi and or had a crazy disguise to keep you camouflaged from all the cameras."

Beca cheeks a smile; you cracking her code spot on. "I knew I liked you for a reason, _Ms_. _Detective_." You shrug your shoulder cockily, praising yourself tremendously for your Nancy Drew moment. "But yes, that's why. Anytime someone recognizes me at school, I use the spell. Being a witch is definitely a blessing and a curse, but some stuff comes in handy."

"You never used it on me, have you?" You ask skeptically, but keep a teasing expression over your features to make sure Beca knows you aren't _that_ serious about your question.

"Nope," Beca replies bluntly, without a hitch. "I've sworn off all witchcraft when it comes to you."

"What if I catch you cheating on me with some sloozy who had their eyes on you all night while you were spinning?" You say it as a joke-and for the most part, it comes out as a joke when Beca is chuckling is seen about it, but there's hidden bitterness to the words when you remember how every girl and guy in the club tonight drooled over Beca on the dance floor.

Drooled over _your_ Beca right in front of you.

"That won't happen because no one else matters to me, you know that. I only got eyes for you, babe."

"Oh wow," you whimper and swoon and melt all at the same time. Pet names were never a big thing for you; you liked being called Chloe and that's it. Chlo was fine, _Red_ was even better, especially with Beca, but hearing _babe_ coming from her was definitely a name that took you off guard in a cozy, pleasant way that stuck like superglue in your tummy. "I kinda like you a lot and feel free to call me babe and baby whenever the Hell you want."

Beca barks a laugh which doesn't fade before she's leaning her face in close to yours, stealing your lips in a kiss that grinds your guy's teeth together from smiling so hard. Soaking into the kiss for a moment, it's Beca who breaks apart with her expression morphing from happy, to almost worried, you think.

And seeing this sudden change in behavior, you reach out from behind Beca's neck where your arms were hooked and cup the side of her face, urging her to say whatever it is that's bugging her and hoping to squash whatever it is that is causing the droop to her features.

Because a frowning Beca is something you don't like.

Not one bit.

And would do anything to prevent it in the future.

Beca's newly saddened eyes never leave yours and it takes a second for her to actually respond in a hushed, wounded tone. "You don't think I'm like...a bad influence or whatever, right?"

Beca is a prime example to someone who you'd call indestructible. Whether it's to bullets, knives, swords or even words, she is someone who you portray as a strong woman, but you are sure you've never heard someone sound so vulnerable and weak when asking a question before.

"Of course not. Why would you think that?"

Beca sighs into your touch that happens to still be cupping the side of her face. "My mom was clairvoyant, which grave her the ability to perceive events in the future or beyond normal sensory contact. Guess you can say the ability ran in the genes and I ended up getting it as well," she speaks softly and her hands hold onto you tightly, but gentle as a whole and you give her your full attention, listening to every last breath this girl says to find out what brought about this negative thought.

"I can hear what my dad thinks of me, how I'm always up to no good, a giant _disappointment_ , and how I'm following the footsteps of a ghost when I could be focused on school, my future, though it's _his_ future he wants for me."

You watch Beca intently, allowing her to finish her thought and can't help but already hate her father for thinking so negative of his daughter. She's a _huge_ success and should be damn proud of everything she has done. You know you are.

So, so proud of Beca.

"Even Aubrey has quite the opinion about me. _God_ , she hates me." Beca chuckles despite her words that don't come off as humorous. "Stacie on the other hand thinks we are hot as shit, and I didn't need to read her thoughts to discover this; she told me when we went to the bathroom after pulling her away from the lurking men she teased the entire way there." She rolls her eyes and you could only imagine the struggle of a person the size of Beca pulling away a temporarily blond, long legged vixen away from her prey when in heat. "I'm starting to believe that her blood is replaced by that succubus rum because seriously, I've never met someone who flirts as much as she does."

You know that you've barely known Stacie since she is a freshman and the time you did get to hang out with the girl, her brain was mush and her thoughts were poisoned from Gail, but you do know the girl craves physical attention like it's her lifeline, which is strange why control freak, _goody two shoes,_ Aubrey, fancies the girl so much. Opposites attract, you guess, since you are very attracted to Beca and she's the exact _opposite_ of who you'd see yourself falling for and more like the girl your parents would shun and forbid you from seeing.

"But still, Aubrey is not a fan of me from what I heard, not that it's a shock with the way she glares at me when I do _anything_ to you."

You shake your head as if it would erase any negative thought her dad and even Aubrey considered Beca to be, knowing one hundred percent that that's not true. Who is her father to judge anyway since what you can gather from earlier encounters you've seen him in with Beca and the fact that he left her at a young age, he has no say in whether or not she's a good influence because by the whole _leaving_ _thing_ , that makes him a pretty shitty person.

"Don't listen to what Aubrey thinks about you, I know she's trying to change her views, but you know how best friends are. They get protective when someone new comes into their friend's life," you remind softly.

"Actually, I wouldn't know because I never really had a best friend. Closest thing I have to one is Luke, but even then I think of him more as a brother who annoys the living daylights out of me."

"Well, you're _my_ best friend and I hope I'm considered your best friend now, too," you say sincerely; it's more than the truth and you know it's fast, but Beca is your person. "I don't think you fully understand what meeting you has done for me as a person. Because of you, I'm no longer scared of taking risks, living my life with a sense of adventure. Because of you, I actually have a _voice_ , instead of constantly being taken advantage of."

You pause for a second and take your other hand to cup the other side of Beca's face when you see it falling into her chest to avoid all eye contact and you reel it back up to meet your gaze, hoping she understands that _none_ of what Aubrey, Stacie, Luke and her father thinks of her is true.

"Because of you, Beca, you made me _stronger,_ mentally and physically. If anything you're a _great_ influence on me."

Beca hints a smile at the corners of her mouth and it's a relief when you see it twitching. "Even when you get your Sociology quiz back and you have a giant red 'F' at the top corner?"

"That was _my_ choice to hang out with you all night and not study. You didn't do anything," you assure with as much sincerity as you can muster in your voice because it still seems like Beca is hesitant about her being the _rotten_ mold in your life when in fact, she's the light at the other end of the dark tunnel. "Plus, too soon, Bec. Sore subject."

"Sorry sorry," Beca apologizes and a fairly large smile finally breaks through the barrier. "You're amazing, you know that right?"

"I'm pretty great." The cocky shrug to one of your shoulders doesn't go unnoticed by Beca and she shakes her head with a roll to her eyes when seeing your smug grin for the slightest moment before your covering it up by Beca's lips in a slow, passionate kiss.

"My mom would love you," Beca breathes against your lips when breaking apart from the kiss, but keeps her forehead rested against yours, not moving far away to see how your face lights up at the compliment and that fact Beca is allowing herself to talk about her mother. "Not only because you're the first girl I actually _wanted_ to bring home for her to meet and for years, she kept bugging the living shit out of me to find a girlfriend and bring her home, but because you're seriously one Hell of a girl, Chloe Beale. I wish I found you sooner."

You feel a familiar tickle in your nose and your eyes uncontrollably fills with unshed tears, so to stop the inevitable and hide the fact you're seconds away from crying, you lean your head back over Beca's chest, right above her heart and melt into her embrace when you feel her arms lock you in securely. Now this is a position you're _very_ comfortable in, plus it hides the fact you are profusely blushing at the compliments given from Beca.

There's a brief period of silence, except the music playing some old rock band you're not too familiar with. "Thank you," you say all of a sudden into the material of Beca's blouse, not daring to look up even though you can sense that Beca is looking down at you from where you're laying.

"For what?" The confusion is there, but also there's amusement mixed in her voice.

"For opening up to me...for letting me in."

"I _want_ to share things with you Chloe, so much. I just have to do it in little bits and pieces unless you want me to combust with anxiety."

"Definitely don't want that," you chuckle this and manage to rotate your body and legs so that you're no longer straddling Beca, but instead curled up on top of her, with your face against her collarbone and her hand resting on the back of your thigh. "You tell me whenever you're ready. No rush."

Beca settles from underneath and you feel her body relax until it's no longer stiff like before. You now see how talking about her personal life affects her so much, the sense of vulnerability she may feel when opening up, showing how she _really_ feels. It's knowing this that makes it that much more special that she's able to share these personal things with you even though her skin crawls when doing so.

It makes _you_ feel special.

"We are _totes_ going to be that sappy couple." You snort after a beat of comfortable silence between the two of you and you feel Beca shake above with her own laughter.

Again, Beca doesn't say much other than she quite chuckles under the sound of Adam Levine's sweet, voice as "She Will Be Loved" plays softly through Beca's speakers in her truck. You settle into Beca's warmth, feeling more than content at how this eventful night ended up being.

You consider yourself to be a very optimistic, happy person ninety nine point nine percent of the time, but tonight, and being here with Beca while you watched her spin in her element, saw how amazing she was doing it and now is sharing the after performance euphoria, _together_ , you can rightfully declare that you've never been happier.

Your fingers play with Beca's black necklace she is wearing and actually wears everyday now that you think about it. For the most part, it was a simple, black chain linked together, but was almost tangled and twisted around with another necklace, a more circular chain that wrapped closer around her neck instead of dangled into a v-shape. At the point of the 'v,' hangs a silver symbol over her sternum that you aren't too sure what it is exactly. You play with it, however, and twist the unknown silver between your index and thumb absentmindedly and relax into Beca's easy breathing.

It's then you're kinda overwhelmed with emotions you have towards the girl and how you can official call her your girlfriend that makes you drop the necklace and crane your neck upwards to look at Beca's upside down face, surprised to see those dark eyes already staring down at you intently. It takes about a half of a second to decide talking has been good while it lasted, but definitely needed to kiss Beca soon before you're closing the small amount of distance separating your guy's lips.

And just when your body is sculpted back to normal, it starts to defrost once again, and you're melting into the kiss as Beca holds onto you like you're going to float away if she lets go.

And honestly, you think you just might.

* * *

If last night (technically early this morning) taught you anything, it was that you need to step your game up in the 'sex' category for when you and Beca finally decide to go all the way. Everything that happened last night up until the part where you kind of had a major panic attack from your heart freaking out was _magical_ and _perfect_.

Beca was perfect, as always.

But in a way, you want to be _perfect_ for Beca, too.

And even though whenever you're around Beca your endorphins and oxytocin bounce right off the walls, she also makes you very, _very_ nervous.

Too nervous to be able to act on these hormones that are driving you straight into insanity.

It also showed when you woke up this morning with a thick layer of sweat, heavy breathing and _not_ to a nightmare this time around- _anything_ but a nightmare- but in fact a dream you wanted nothing more than to be stuck in it forever with how Beca's lips were roaming over new skin on your body and her hands were delicate, but strong as she mixed your body into an eruption of pure bliss and _ecstasy_.

And let's not forget about the unbearable throbbing which took place right between your thighs, somehow all the blood in your body rushed to one area in particular that has never had so much attention until you the day you met Beca.

Needless to say, this was your first ever sex dream about someone else and you don't seem weirded out by it, which then makes it feel even creepier that you're not creeped out about having a sex dream involving Beca when the girl has absolutely no idea.

God, it sounds really freaking creepy and weird and pervy and _ugh_!

But you know you had to do something about this.

And the frequent urges you were presented with whenever Beca would even _look_ at you the way she usually does and it twists your insides into Boy Scout knots.

Which is why after Monday's classes, you find yourself alone with your laptop planted dead center over your lap, trapped up in Beca's bedroom in her cabin while she is out with Luke doing God knows what and is waiting patiently for her to come back so you two could do dinner. Curiosity gets the best of you once you get around to thinking about this morning; the constant, warm, throbbing feeling in your lower stomach and how quick you're to lose yourself when you have Beca's lips over every inch of skin on your body.

And what better solution to a question than the lovely knowledge the internet brings?

 _Nothing_ , which is also why you boldly sneak into Beca's room, make yourself comfortable on her bed with a note pad and favorite pink pen directly to your left by your legs while you search through the best, non-virus _adult_ _websites_ and scroll through the endless collection of videos to choose from.

All for the first time ever, _thank you very much._

Uncomfortable doesn't even express fully how your body and sanity feels right now as you search for whatever video seems the _most_ interesting, catching your eye out of the bunch and would bring the most knowledge to the table since learning new things is the _main_ reason why you're searching through hundreds of dirty videos of really attractive girls and writing down specific notes that would seem useful, avoiding all the penises and...oh my God... _you're such a perv._

Cautiously, you click on the next, semi interesting video there is, occasionally taking side glances at the door to make sure nobody walks in, but it seemed like Beca would be out for a while and Stacie and Aubrey are still hibernating like a bunch of bears, sleeping off the succubus rum to drain it from their system, so you think you're in the clear for now.

As the video starts, the girls don't hesitate for one second before their tops are off, next their bras, then all of a sudden there's a lot of skin on your screen. **A lot** of skin. Both girls are gorgeous, by the way, and you're not one to stereotype lesbians, or sex in general in any way, but so far the video and how they're shoving their tongues down each other's throat while also shoving _other_ _things_ in other places you don't feel comfortable saying, all of it just doesn't seem realistic.

Like if you were to do this to Beca, it would do more than startle her, and not in the good, positive way either. Possibly, it might even offend her.

And the the _sounds_ these girls are making.

Good **God** , no girl-no matter how good their partner is in the sheets- sounds _anything_ like that, and even you, inexperienced Chloe, can spot a fake orgasm from a real one and what you're hearing through your computer speakers is faker than Barbie's ass.

"Oh wow, she's very... _flexible_ ," you comment out loud to yourself during a specific part in the video and position one of the girls was currently in. You're both amazed and slightly confused how she was able to get her legs like that without snapping several bones in the process.

Maybe even a little concerned about her health.

Admittedly, however, you manage to jot a few tips down, wanting this whole homework session to be over as soon as possible with at least _something_ you took out of the awful experience. You feel extremely dirty and feel like maybe you should find the nearest church and clean you of your sins-even though you only step foot in a church on Easter and Christmas- so most likely you'll burst into flames a foot into the entryway.

Some of the videos are rather... _arousing,_ you have to admit, even though you'd rather keep it to yourself that watching porn by yourself in Beca's room is more than a little bit of a turn on. _Of_ _course,_ watching young, beautiful girls make out, rubbing each other inappropriately would cause some fidgeting in the legs, and heat to spread all across your body and face; you're only human, dammit.

And like any other human would do, you start to get creative, and without really noticing, your hands begin to wander up underneath your shirt while your eyes stay fixated on the screen with the two woman engaging in a scene that by the sounds they're making seems very _pleasurable_.

You're no stranger when it comes to your own body; you've touched it many times in the past because, again, you're human, and first off all, it is like _totes_ healthy. You _are_ , however, a newbie when it comes to the whole touching yourself plus the dirty sounds playing in the background to help ease you through it, and at first, it's a little disturbing, but once you get past the weirdness of touching yourself like this in Beca's bed with your friends in the other room, you slide your hand up to your chest, just under your bra before slipping your fingers underneath the cups, palm cupping over warm skin.

But then, there's a new noise above all the moans and whimpers coming out of your computer.

And because your eyes have fallen shut from the sensations brought along with your fingers and hand on your chest, you missed the new guest added to the room, as well.

Abruptly, you yank out your hand from your shirt, slam the top your computer shut-there's a chance you shattered the screen from the sudden force- and greet the intruder with a guilty, _just got caught in the act,_ nervous grin when the blonde's immediate greeting is a questioning stare at your flustered appearance.

"What are you doing?" Aubrey asks suspiciously with one eyebrow raised and you know she's staring at your closed computer you tossed mindlessly onto the bed.

You look around to think of something that could cover what you were actually doing, which probably doesn't help your case with trying to cover up the fact you were doing something completely, one hundred percent inappropriate. Your face is also so hot that anyone could cook an egg on your skin and you're so flustered and still turned on that you start to nervous sweat.

"Were you watching porn?" Aubrey cuts right to the chase before you can even come up with a reasonable excuse to your crazy bed head, guilty mask of shame and clammy, fire engine red face.

"No!" You shout this a little too loud for it to be believable and the awkward laugh that comes right after doesn't help the growing suspicion aubrey already came in with. " _Porn_?! What?! That's uh...that's so…. _weird_...like, who even watches porn. Definitely not me, silly goose!"

"Then what were you doing? And why are you breathing heavy? And why is your skin all clammy?" Aubrey points out.

"Yoga!" You quickly come up with, a little too loud to make it seem believable.

"If you were doing yoga, why did you have your computer opened?"

Okay, Aubrey has always been a tough cookie to crack and why you expected it to be any different this time was not only stupid, but really _freaking_ stupid.

"Homework," you come up with nonchalantly. "Yoga in between the breaks before my brain gets fried. Gotta keep the tummy tight!" You playfully tap your stomach to add to the show.

"Uh huh." Aubrey's glare tells you that she doesn't buy this for one second, and neither does any of her responses.

An alarm blares off in your head when she moves over to the bed where your notepad filled with all your "homework" notes are laying out in front for her to see and before you can snatch them away in the most subtle, _I'm not hiding anything dirty from you_ way _,_ it's already too late before she's reading the notepad for herself, dropping it almost instantly once she reads out loud the list starting with: Lip biting, _check_ , neck kissing, _check_ , hickies, _check_ and nipple play being the bullet point that turns her face an unpleasant shade of green.

Because half of your notes are experiences you _know_ first hand that Bca enjoys by the previous encounters you've had while making out.

" _Foreplay_ , Chloe? Seriously!?" Aubrey screeches, slamming the notebook down onto the bed and all you can do is shrink in defeat, unable to counter an excuse to make it seem not as bad as it looks. "Are you planning on having sex with Beca? For your _first_ time? It wouldn't peg me if she was into that weird, _Fifty_ _Shades_ _of_ _Grey_ , BDSM stuff, Chlo. Did she force herself on you when you two left the club?"

You squeak a laugh that comes out a lot louder than expected, probably because you're, for the first time ever, embarrassed that you've been caught doing something so dirty, but meant solemnly for research to help you out in the longer run.

And if this is true about Beca, you _definitely_ looked up the wrong videos to watch.

But you think either way you'd make a pretty good submissive.

"Eventually _yes_ Beca and I are going to take the next step, but who knows when. I just wanted to prepare myself before then, whenever that may be." You sigh exasperated, drained from the conversation already and it hasn't even been a full minute. Hiding your beat red, uncomfortably hot face in shame and in _private_ sounds like a perfect alternative than to be scolded by Aubrey's disapproving glare." No she didn't force herself on me; she actually really respectful. We kissed inside her car and didn't go all the way but have gone pretty far, which is _why_ I'm just trying to educated myself on the lady anatomy. Seriously, Bree. All of this is harmless."

Aubrey squints at you for a second, studying everything there is like you've transformed into one of her Chemistry textbooks. "I really hate myself for even suggesting this, but ask Stacie. I'm more than certain she'd be willing to help you out." With that, she leaves the room without any further explanation and like an epiphany or something when taking in Stacie's rather proud experience in the sexual department, you think to yourself that that might not be such a bad idea.

Definitely better than risking your laptop of viruses and getting caught watching porn by your _best_ _friend_ in your _girlfriend's_ bed.

Scratch that, _**way**_ better.

* * *

Here's how the rest of the week went prior to almost getting caught ' _flicking_ _the_ _bean_ ' by your best friend while watching porn and trying to get some pointers from really attractive pornstar actresses (not your proudest moment, you know and are ashamed of it one hundred percent... _kind_ _of_ ).

You find out the names of the two guys who Aubrey and Stacie captured and buried deep in the woods; Jake and Brandon, both all stars on the baseball team, which is why a couple days after the rush and their whereabouts still remaining unknown causes quite the commotion around campus. Coaches for the team began freaking out, maybe even more than their parents were, and people started to talk amongst each other, spreading crazy, incorrect rumors about where they could be and soon, missing posters were hung up all around campus.

It also didn't help that Aubrey and Stacie have also been reported missing, which then started a whole new series of questions that no one knew the answers to.

The Bellas' house got _hounded_ by questions from the police since the last time Jake and Brandon were seen was at the rush, same with Aubrey and Stacie, but as expected, Gail and Kommissar put on their innocent masks and fooled the officers with innocence, putting on their fakest performance like they gave a shit about the boys. The police bought it, of course; you would've believed it too if you hadn't already known the truth about the missing suspects being six feet under.

Like Beca said. Stacie and Aubrey's disappearance didn't bring much talk around the house-actually, it brought _none_ , which is kind of sad in a way since all of you guys are _suppose_ to be sisters and no sister gets left behind, but leave it to the twin Satans to ruin yet another Bella tradition and sisterhood with their creepy black magic and matching black hearts.

Not even crocodile tears makes a display for them and their bull shit grieving.

They're evil, conniving, brainwashing _monsters_ who will stop at nothing to get what they want, no matter if it's two girls from their cult that have gone missing.

 _God_ , you dislike them so much.

Towards the end of the week another guy went missing; Sean Loffer, first string wide receiver for the football team, brother at Sigma Beta and close friend to Tom, apparently, after seeing the boy pretty messed up about the disappearance of Sean around campus after your calculus class. Emily was the culprit to reel in this lucky winner-you know, smol little bean, Emily, is _actually_ capable of doing horrible things _even_ under possession of two witches, it's extremely hard to believe.

But it happened, and it was Barden's last straw.

By this point with all total of five students missing, officials have reached a whole new meaning of _insane_ that even talk around the news and social media about Barden has been spreading like wildfire. Police officers now guard every building possible, roam the campus and streets at night. They post up at every block and go undercover, and even made a curfew for college students to follow unless they wanted to get ticketed.

Ridiculous, you know.

And sadly, classes were still mandatory to attend.

Overall, Barden and everyone trapped inside this gigantic Hell hole is going magical, scared _shitless_ to even walk out to their cars in fear of being abducted by Barden's, Jeffrey Dahmer, _rapist_. Lock downs happen almost too frequently whenever any suspicious activity, even on the slightest, most harmless way possible happens. There has been more lockdowns in _one_ week than your four years of being a college student. Everyone is going psycho from fear, paranoid that they're next and just terrified to sleep at night.

That is everyone _but_ the Bellas, who are playing innocent _disgustingly_ well.

It would've been creepy if you hadn't known better.

You could care less about everything that's going on. _Technically_ , you have nothing to worry about until the blood moon on Halloween and are considered safe from any abductions because the abductors are your _sisters_ , but when the time comes, you're _screwed_ , let's be real. Unless you somehow blow your cover, or do something _insanely_ stupid, you have nothing to worry about besides the ridiculously strict rules appearing around Barden.

To avoid this from happening, you spend majority of your time at the " _library_ " away from the Bellas' house when you announce to Gail and Kommissar where you've been when they do weirdly care. You don't even have to lie and make up some bologna saying you were out with Tom, because ever since the rush, they haven't been constantly down your throat with you hanging out with him. Honestly, they haven't even really paid you any attention, which is alarming, but also refreshing.

You don't allow yourself to think about it too much.

If they wanted you dead, they would've done it a long time ago.

And Tom is a tweaky type of paranoid, which makes sense since his friends are going missing, but it's hard to be within feet of him without wanting to slap him.

Other than the daily morning meetings you have with Gail, Kommissar and your sister's, going over the dark realm of the witch world, you still, however, avoid them like the plague and are either staying at Beca's cabin, training in the woods with Aubrey and Stacie, or out and about with Beca, either getting food, coffee or listening to music on the hood of her car at your guy's _spot_.

These all fall under the category of " _library_."

Today, though, on a Friday evening (coolest kid on the block, you already know) you're actually stuck frying your brain with a novel size folder of homework at the library and definitions for Russian Lit that you need to get started on before you end up failing the course and have to retake it.

But even getting started on it early doesn't do much good because as you expected, the worksheets are _really_ _freaking_ _hard_. So hard that you can't even start on them and can only stare blankly at the sheets with high levels of confusion, and repeated thoughts going through your head about dropping out of school and becoming a stripper.

At least you already know how to dance, so you could easily find a club, preferably a _clean_ one. All that was left was to make some money.

As you're hopelessly searching through your textbook for a starting point to begin your papers while going back and forth between social media, a hand lands on your shoulder from behind, causing you to freeze your Instagram scrolling, as well as your breathing when you take in the fact that you're the only one on the third level of the library and building, _in general_.

And if it wasn't for the black nail polish, silver rings, headphones tattoo and coconut scent, you would've broken whoever's hand that was touching you in a single snap due to the library being ghostly deserted right now.

"Now what is a pretty girl like you doing at the library on a Friday night?"

You roll your eyes at Beca even though she clearly can only see the back of your head and twist around to face your smug looking girlfriend.

It hasn't been long since you've seen Beca; yesterday morning when she dropped you off on campus since that became a frequent, daily thing to do, just like how you two get coffee now after your 8:00 AM class. So really, it's been a little more than a day, but you can admit that even if you spend the whole day with Beca, you miss her like crazy the second she leaves.

Nothing has really changed between you two, yet _everything_ has changed in the best possible ways.

Such as extra hand holding, double the amount of cuddles, triple the amount of stolen kisses when one of you isn't paying attention and quadruple times _infinity_ the amount of butterflies you feel whenever you realize that you're lucky enough to call Beca's **yours**.

You wrap your arms around Beca's waist to give her stomach an awkwardly tight, warm hug to express how much you've missed the girl. You press your cheek into Beca's stomach and savor the warm embrace and toned stomach muscles underneath her tank top before Beca is kissing at the top of your head with a playful flick to your ear to pull you off so she could sit down at the table next to you.

It's crazy honestly. How much you could truly miss a person. You never had someone in your life who's presence meant so much to you and if that presence was gone, it felt like half your heart was missing. Beca is that presence for you; the constant eye rolls, the bruising sarcasm, the dark humor that has a secret way with your funny bone is all something you never thought you needed as much as you do now.

"Unlike _some_ people, not naming names, I want to pass my classes, which is why I'm at the library, _obviously_ ," you tease with a winning grin at Beca who's sitting beside you, legs crossed and arms mirroring the position. She copies your smile, though hers somehow is only half the size, yet feels a _billion_ times larger. "What are you doing here? Not that I'm _not_ excited to see you."

"I got your text that you were going to be frying your brain out with knowledge and connected the dots that you'd be here. Plus, I just got done with a little training with Aubrey and Stacie."

You light up at the announcement and drop the pen you were holding onto the table next to your book, giving Beca your full attention. "Oh really? How was that?" The last time you all had training was Wednesday during your lunch break; Aubrey threw up twice when she was given a gun to shoot and Stacie cut herself on Beca's butterfly knife and ended up passing out from the blood.

It was _interesting_ , to say the least.

But slowly, they were getting the hang of things.

Kind of.

"Not too bad actually," Beca breathes this with a chuckle and seems all around surprised that things went so well at day three of training with the newbies. "Like we had the honor of experiencing, Stacie has a _wicked_ aim with knives and Aubrey has an impressive shot. She also has a lot of pent of anger and can punch pretty damn hard. It's hard for them being excluded from everything, especially having to give up their phones before the police could track them so they can't even talk to their parents, but they're easing up."

"Good!" You chirp excitedly, happy that training isn't a complete shit show like you expected it to be. The first day was hard, but that was to be expected knowing the closest gun Aubrey and Stacie has seen in real life was a _water_ gun from a toy store. "Not as good as my shot, right?"

Beca shakes her head with a laugh, but hasn't given you the answer you want. "Definitely not." You shrug one shoulder up as cocky praising when given the answer you were looking for. "Which reminds me. After talking to Luke today since he was there helping out, I need to teach you how to fight."

You cock a brow up at Beca, taken back by the request. That was a new one from the book. "Fight? Like... _physical_ fighting?"

"You know, I don't think you can kill a witch and save your life with a _verbal_ fight. Calling them a 'jerk' wouldn't exactly stop them from turning your body into a voodoo doll." Using sarcasm at her finest, Beca mocks you, keeping her smug smile bright and you roll your eyes, keeping to yourself that maybe it was a dumb question to ask. "So _yes_. Physical fighting."

"Becs, I don't know if I can do that," you mumble hesitantly and rub at your elbow where your arms are crossed over your chest. "Especially the crazy, martial arts fighting that you do. Have you forgotten that I'm the girl who broke a nail during one of our trainings and was on the verge of tears? Can you imagine me getting _hit_? I bruise like a banana!"

"I think you'd look super cute with a black eye."

"I beg to differ, plus, do you think I have a feisty bone in my body? I'm _fragile_ , Becs."

"Absolutely not," Beca answers fast and surely. "Which is why I need to train you so you _don't_ get hit. You have too pretty of a face to mark up." Given that same smile, Beca knicks her finger at your upper lip, the same area where you expertly gave yourself the _largest_ fat lip doing something so embarrassingly stupid.

You know Beca is right and you hate yourself for admitting that, but you'd rather be prepared in a sticky situation where you needed a few handy kombat moves to save your life, Aubrey's, Stacie's, and possibly Beca's.

"Fine," you groan out in defeat and Beca tells you that the training will come later, so not to worry about it.

She scoots her chair closer to yours and gives you a _proper_ greeting kiss; a kiss short and sweet, but warming nonetheless. Slinging her arm over the back of your chair, she peeks over at your textbook and sprawled out notes, asking what it is exactly that is keeping you from going out and partying until the sun comes up, calling you the world's biggest nerd who would rather be stuck in a library on a Friday night.

Not the fact that _zero_ parties are going on now that Barden is on _complete_ lockdown.

Or that Barden is secretly being taken over by witches.

You lean your head over Beca's shoulder, releasing a tired, heavy sigh that really speaks for itself about what you're _attempting_ to work on and how you exactly feel about it. "Russian Lit, sadly. I needed an art elective before I could graduate and decided that learning Russian would be easier than Spanish-which I took for _four_ years in high school!"

You feel Beca lean forward to grab a page from your collection of papers, all of which that have _yet_ to be started, and she manages to move without messing with your position on her shoulder, but you snuggle in closer just in case something causes you two to break apart.

Beca is busy reading off the sheets; you can basically hear the words overflowing her head, but can assume she's just as confused as you are. "Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin, huh?"

Or so you _thought_ she didn't understand what you were currently trying to read about.

What the heck?

She knows _Russian_?

And holy **crap** , not to mention how _sexy_ she just sounded saying his name so fluently.

"You know him?"

"Oh for sure. Basically the 'Mozart of the nineteenth century. My favorite is _Eugene_ _Onegin_."

This is all news to you- _great_ news, because if what you're gathering here correctly with Beca, your _girlfriend_ , knowing who this Russian poet dude is, then she probably knows all the other literatures you'll have to read in this course.

And she could so totally help you cheat.

 _Oh my goodness..._

You lift your head up off Beca's chest to face her, making sure she sees how baffled you are that she knows the language. "So you know Russian? Why haven't I known about this?"

"I know lots of different languages, Russian just being one of them."

Oh my God.

Beca is just a _bag_ _full_ of jaw dropping secrets.

"And second, you never asked."

"Say something else," you encourage excitedly like a little baby finding out something funny their parents do and continue to bug them to do it an unhealthy, annoying amount of times.

"To ónomá mou eínai Beca kai nomízo óti eísai to pio ómorfo korítsi pou écho dei poté."

As if you thought Beca couldn't possibly get any hotter, she comes out with this. Really, you have no idea what she just said, but you know that she could state that you smell in this language and it would still come out as incredibly sexy. You take a second to breathe and get your mouth to work with your brain so you can form actual words.

"Jesus Christ, was that _Greek_?" Beca nods her head and her jaw sculpted by God himself clenches through her smile, adding onto the mountain of sex appeal she is earning tonight. "What did you just say? Say it again." You inch your face in closer to get a better listen, wanting to get a full surround sound experience when she speaks this time.

"Just mentioned how beautiful you are."

You give yourself a split second to swoon into a pile of goo hearing the translated version of Beca's previous words spoken, how meaningful they sound, but then you urge her to say something else that could possibly tear the last little bit of string you have left of your sanity.

"Ego vere vis ad te basia nunc."

It's Latin this time; you know a basic chunk of the language after trying to learn it in high school because you thought it would make you _elegant_ and so you bought "Latin for Dummies," only to give up a week later when you found out it's hard as Hell. What she said is still a mystery, but what you do know is that you can listen to Beca speak all sorts of these different languages _every_ second of _every_ day for the rest of your life.

Knowing it's Latin brings back a specific memory of overhearing Gail and Kommissar and you want to bring it up to Beca. "Is it like mandatory for all witches to be fluent in Latin, because I overheard Gail and Kommissar talking, but couldn't pick anything up."

"Gail and Kommissar, as they go by since their full, real names are way too complicated for you modern folks have been around for ages, so of course they'd know Latin, along with a handful of other languages."

Now that's true, you think to yourself.

"My mom, head of the coven were in taught me everything I know about Greek, Latin, Russian, French, Swedish, even Portuguese." Beca sets the paper back down on the table and you're truly amazed for a two reasons; one, that Beca knows so many exotic languages and two, she brought up the topic of her mom again. "Guess you can say witches have a photographic memory or some shit."

"Wait, so your mom is a witch, too?" You shift closer in your seat, absorbed in the topic and Beca's personal life away from all her success. It's hard to believe there's another world outside of this one you're living in that is filled with magical things beyond your imagination. "A white witch? Like you?"

As a pleasant surprise, Beca doesn't tense up like she usually does when asked to express her mother, or past. "Yes she is, but also different from me."

"How so?"

"Gail and Kommissar are very, _very_ smart… like my mother, but _never_ smarter, which is why they feared her, like the _cowards_ they really are." By this point, Beca mood has visibly changed by her spitting tone and you can feel the tension brought along with the mention of Gail and Kommissar, who apparently have history with Beca's mother.

It puts a whole new series of questions to wonder about as to where exactly she is and why she's not present with Beca during all of this that is happening to Barden. Obviously there's some history Beca hasn't informed you of and perhaps, Gail and Kommissar have something to do for her mother's absence and the reason why Beca has become one to kill her own kind.

Despite the itch to ask more about her mom other than she is, too, a witch, (head of the coven, in fact, the same coven Gail and Kommissar were also a part of) but knowing your limit and Beca's tolerance she can handle when talking about such an important person in her life, you put all your curiosity aside. You feel special knowing Beca feels comfortable enough to share these things with you. Maybe it's becoming a new thing to drop something new about her mom every so often, even though you are gradually getting more and more intimidated by the thought of momma Mitchell.

And no matter how much you want to know what happened to her, little pieces of information over time is something you'll take over nothing at all.

"Okay, I _need_ to know if you know any crazy voodoo spells," you reroute the discussion off of Beca's mom and onto something else, an interest itching at you to know.

"Voodoo and witchcraft are _completely_ different things, Chlo. Voodoo is a creepy religion; the minor league, and witchcraft is the major league. _Super_ bad ass. Our worlds don't cross path unless we are out of all other options and in _dire_ need for help."

You're relieved to see Beca's tension easing up and she's sinking back into your embrace by reaching out with her free hand not caught behind your chair to tangle with one of yours. You've only known Beca for a short amount of time, but what you do know is that you _hate_ to see her so upset, _hurting_ and trying to cover it up with anger. This laughy, warm, cuddly side of Beca is your favorite to be around.

"So you don't have a voodoo doll of me that you put a black magic spell to make me fall heads over heels for you?" you tease, biting your lip at Beca's laughs.

"Now you think I'm Cupid or something?"

" _Psh_ , Cupid doesn't exist." You wave off the name nonchalantly.

"Bet you thought the same about witches." You shrug your shoulders; Beca got you in that one. There's many things you never thought existed until you met this girl, like, you never thought a girl as amazing and _painfully_ beautiful as Beca would be real outside of your dreams. Or how you could care so much for a person in such little time."But yes, I know witchcraft, a little too much if you ask me. I have the heart of the coven in my blood."

"Your life is so _wicked_ ," you intentionally drop a pun, but also really mean this statement; Beca's life and everything she's involved with is better than any drama filled, reality television show.

"Oh God. I'm dating a pun freak. Where's my exit ticket? I gotta get out of here." Beca pretends to scan the library for the quickest way out, but you smack her lightly in the stomach, no offense taken but wanting to knock the smugness off her face.

"What did you say in Latin earlier?" you bring this back up when you were never really given an answer before.

Beca shifts to pull your head away from here you're leaned up against her chest and her eyes gradually fall down to stare at your lips."That I really want to kiss you right now."

Your body moves on autopilot without any thought to your actions and one thing happens after another; Beca staring at you with that certain sparkle laced over her steely blue eyes and you acting upon these tingling feelings in your stomach, smashing your lips together after glancing around the empty library for any observers. You hate that you need to keep your relationship a secret as of now. What you really want to do is scream " _I'm dating Beca Mitchell_ " from the rooftops for everyone to hear.

But as long as you have Beca all to yourself and get to kiss her in moments like these, you'll live.

"No no," you push at Beca's chest when things start to become heated by Beca's wandering hands up your shirt, breaking apart the kiss with heavy breathing. You don't _want_ to stop engaging in this activity that involves Beca's lips on yours, but you also really need to _at least_ kind of finish your Russian Lit homework so you _can_ make out with Beca for the rest of the night, like you plan on doing. Clearing your throat, "I need to stay focused," you declare and attempt to straighten up, but all you can think about is Beca's lips, especially if they're right _there_ next to you, and it's really distracting the way she's eating you alive right now.

Grabbing the things you need to work on, you stand up from the seat you were sitting in and walk to the other side of the table, far away from Beca and out of reach for her to start any funny business. You almost break on your way over; the smirk on Beca's face and sudden blackness to her lustful eyes at a glance makes your knees weak, but you stand your ground and stay strong, all for the power of education.

And _not_ sexual tension and hormones.

"Since you know Russian, you're going to help me."

"Oh am I?" You don't dare to look at Beca, knowing already she's wearing a mask that you'll easily succumb to.

You hum your answer instead with a curt nod to your head while you scan things over in your book, keeping your attention off your girlfriend. "Now that I know this little talent of yours, I guess I'll keep you around." Snagging out your reading glasses from your purse, you chance and look to see Beca surprisingly switching into serious mode about helping you out.

"I asked you to be my girlfriend to make out with you whenever, but now I'm your tutor?"

"Don't be grouchy and I'll make out out with you for as long as you want when I'm done." You wink at Beca's smirk.

"Where should we start then?" she asks intrigued and leaned over your paper.

You mention a little bit of background about the poet's your professor has given you and she informs you with more than enough knowledge about certain bits and pieces to each individual readings that you can scramble up a few hundred words to eventually make a ten page paper.

The whole time while you work, Beca has been looking at you differently; a suspicious look that doesn't leave your face, but as you're writing some information down while occasionally switching over to type it on your laptop, the look grows stronger.

"What are you staring at, weirdo?" You chuckle as your fingers type away on your keyboard and with your peripherals, you see Beca's eyes fixated on your every move. "If you weren't so attractive you staring at me like that would freak me out."

"You're seriously so beautiful."

"And you're _seriously_ so cheesy," you battle back with in effort to flood out the storm of butterflies pooling in your stomach by the compliment. See? You're such a love sick _fool_ when it comes to this girl. "And I look like a total bum, babe."

Beautiful wouldn't be the exact words to describe how you look; you're wearing faded blue jeans, some old white vans, and a forest green Bellas' t-shirt with your Greek symbol on the front. To add to this illusion, you're also wearing your glasses and your hair isn't bouncy in perfect curls like it usually is and instead, is pencil straight, a little tousled and a little all over the place from stress.

"I'm serious." Beca's chuckling but you know she's being sincere; it's poking out at each word and the way she's looking at you once you've found the strength to tear your eyes away from your computer screen. "You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."

You gulp from the overwhelming hurricane of emotions hitting you all at once, unable to find the strength or proper words to respond.

"You _kill_ me."

And it's this that jolts you back to life with your craving _want_ for the girl sitting across from you.

All desire to get your school work goes straight out the window, same with your packets of papers, textbooks and other random school utensils that fly off the table and onto somewhere the floor before you're climbing across the table, breaking all the rules corresponding to the library and not giving two hoots about doing it.

While watching you hungrily with a wolfish grin, Beca scoots back in her chair the closer you get when crawling towards her until you hook a hand behind her neck and crash your lips together in a slow, _aggressive_ kiss before moving out your legs from underneath to straddle your girlfriend without breaking apart your lips.

She enjoys the kiss and positioning until she grabs at the back of your thigh, lifts you up to the table so that you're lying down before she quickly follows, slipping herself in between your legs to use every ounce she has in her small frame to kiss you thoroughly, not even thinking about stopping at the fact that you guys could be caught by anyone taking that you two are at a _public_ library.

But it's also a Friday night on a college campus, so chances are you guys are in the clear, which makes you kiss her even harder.

Even though you're _sure_ there's a pen sticking into your tailbone, but Beca's tongue makes up from the uncomfortable pain.

* * *

 ***Sorry if Google translate messed up anything mentioned in the story!***

 **If you watch AHS Coven, you will get the references in this chap!**

 **Another long one for the wait and because I hate to say updates will take a lot longer now that I'm in school. I hope to still get them out whenever I have free time and the positive reviews light a spark to get them out sooner, but senior year of college is going to take up most my time. Sorry, but love each and every one of you who take time out of your day to read and review this story! :)**

 **Next chapter, things go from cruise control to fast and the furious. New characters, action, jealous Chloe, witch stuff and a tweaked out Tom will make an appearance! Hopefully it will be out so what soon! :)**


	12. Chapter 12

**Fun chap!**

 **As for the new guest making an appearance this chapter and when you guys are reading, picture Elizabeth Gillies ;)**

 **Thank you to everyone leaving reviews, following and reading this story!**

 **(I DO NOT OWN PITCH PERFECT NOR THE SONGS MENTIONED)**

* * *

 **Chapter Twelve: Like a Virgin**

" _Chloe Anne Beale!"_

You're instantly blown away, eardrum _disintegrated_ by the sound of your mother's screeching and also slightly terrifying voice on the other end of the call when you slowly transition your feet from moving at jog speed to an easy walk until you're fully stopped on the pavement. For a second, you hunch over to catch your breath, hands on both knees while sweat drips down the bridge of your nose and onto the trail you've been running for God only knows how long.

Not to say things around Barden haven't been the most pleasant to live around; you can't walk into a grocery store without leaving with an abundance of rape whistles, _even_ _though_ you're set for life and then some with the amount collecting in your drawer. People have been far past sketched out with the events taken place in the last couple months; Sindy and Terra making their grand appearance from the dead after gone missing, the abductions that continue to happen and the higher officials have no lead whatsoever in finding the culprit.

But everyone is _oblivious_ and walking right by the culprits behind all the abductions, unable to assume a group of insanely gorgeous sorority girls who do such a thin and that technically the Bellas are participating in "Hell Week," which has now transformed from _minorly_ tough tasks around the house to become a Bella (not hazing because you and Aubrey are against that) to how many abductions can take place in a single week, all thanks to Gail and Kommissar.

Not that they ever would think a bunch of innocent looking sorority girls are behind all the kidnappings and are under control of two must admit, all the rumors about Barden and the forest next to campus held some sort of supernatural, spooky haunting to it, but never did witches come to mind.

And since Gail and Kommissar are masterminds at not getting caught to the point of it being terrifying, you might as well keep up with your early morning runs and sweat all the stress out before it eats you alive.

Plus, your endurance as of lately has been _immaculate_.

But back to the phone call which tears you out of post exhaustion by the sound of your mother's rants on the other line as she lectures you about being MIA since school has started up.

" _Where on Earth have you been lately? Obviously too busy to call your own mother."_

You roll your eyes not just because your mom has reached the top of over dramatic, but simply because she's completely wrong... _kinda_. Again, there has been lots of stuff going on around Barden-not that you could really say any of it to your mom- but once your college gets invested by a bunch of bloodthirsty witches, then one could say their schedules get a little _cramped_ _up_.

"I meant to call you, " you reply winded and out of breath from your exceptionally longer jog early this Sunday morning. The earphones around your neck dangle awkwardly around your thighs and you lift them up to wrap around your clammy shoulders with your free hand not holding the phone up to your ear and you wipe the sweat under your eyes and nose. "Things have been really chaotic and I'm just trying to get settled in. Sorry I haven't been in touch."

" _Oh we've heard, Chlo. I'm about ready to go to Atlanta and steal you away from the crazies who are kidnapping boys, is it? That's not okay and I'd rather you be home with us."_

Though being away from this mess sounds heavenly, the thought of leaving Beca, Aubrey and Stacie behind stabs deeply at your heart.

Especially leaving Beca.

"I bet these boys who are missing are just some rebellious, college dropouts who fled the country to start their own rapping career and snort exotic drugs," you lie, knowing damn well these boys aren't in fact missing, per se, but definitely aren't at Barden, nor in a different country shooting up drugs. Instead, they're six feet under in a witch nest surrounded by creepy, voodoo witch dolls in the middle of Barden's haunted forest and are being prepared to be sacrificed at the night of the blood moon. But really that's no big deal. "I've contemplated dropping out; college will do that to you, especially Russian Lit because I swear that old man is seconds away from an aneurysm with all the kidnappings."

" _Not funny, Chloe."_ You can faintly hear your mother snickering on the other end despite her scolding words. " _Are you seriously okay? I can only imagine how it really is rather than just seeing all of it on the news. I'm surprised the school is still forcing you kids to go to classes."_

The truth is, the experience at Barden should be a lot scarier than it is; you for the most part have gotten over the fact that you're living under the roof with the core of this said _witch_ _cult_ , along with hundreds of other witches outside of the Bellas' house that are under the same process of being transformed into brainless, gorgeous zombies without a single moral in their bodies, but in all honesty, you're _adequate_.

You're _chillin'_ , as the cool kids say.

Without letting you answer the first question she asked, your mom drops another one. " _You still have your BU rape whistle and key chain, pepper spray I gave you? Do we need your father to send down a taser? Small pocket knife?"_

Make that _three_ extra questions on top of one already.

"I promise I have everything, mom. No rapist is going to get their hands on me," you assure exasperated with a snicker. You can't even be annoyed with your mom for her nagging lectures about safety, knowing just how hard it must be that she sent her daughter off to college where it's a serial killer's playground, not that that's exactly the truth, either. Already the attendance has dropped significantly at Barden with people fleeing out of fear and, _of course_ , being taken as witch bait.

You can't help but wonder what she'd think if you were to come out and say everything that has happened so far in the last couple months. Tell her about the mixer at the frat house, the succubus rum that turned all your sisters, including her prized child, Aubrey Posen, into a bunch of provocative witches, who lure boys into the woods, bury them like seeds and participate in weird, _satanic_ rituals with the Bellas new house mothers who plan on using these boys in a giant sacrifice during the blood moon on Halloween, thus becoming immortal and taking over the world with their built, witch army made of mostly college girls.

A hunch tells you she might honestly have a heart attack, then break out of whatever hospital she's staying at and drag you by the collar until you are far away from Barden and all this witch nonsense.

So you don't tell her just yet.

Or if you ever will.

" _I still think we should send you something more...protective in your care package this semester, honey. Just in case you ever run into a situation where you're in danger and need something to protect you. You are our only daughter and without your brothers, who will protect you?"_

You're steered away from the dragged out conversation with your mother when you notice a black muscle car parked at the other end of the street and a girl, _coolly_ leaned up against the driver's side door, legs crossed at the ankles and wearing her usual leather jacket accompanied with those black aviators. A hurricane of pride and satisfaction hits you hard when your eyes lock onto your _girlfriend's_ presence and how you know Beca is taunting you from the distance from that well known, intoxicating smirk of hers.

And maybe not a month ago, but you can protect yourself seeing how far you've grown as a strong, independent woman.

But the thought of Beca taking the steering wheel and protecting you sounds way more appealing.

"Oh I have something to protect me." You use this as a response for your mother on the other line, but you're mostly directing each word to Beca who's watching your every move like a black hawk, your smile soon matching hers and growing into your own mischievous smirk.

As for protection, this couldn't be anymore true; Beca is like a secret black belt with her fighting and reflex skills, hitman assassin with her shooting skills, and knife abilities, not to mention she's a witch with tons of witchcraft up her sleeves, _and_ is a top class teddy bear when it comes to the physical stuff to keep you warm inside, like cuddling, forehead kisses and butt massages.

But you keep that last bit to yourself for your own personal enjoyment.

Who would've thought that _thee_ Beca Mitchell was a secret affectionateness at heart under all that leather, dirty looks and pounds of eyeliner?

" _Hello? Chloe, are you there?"_ Your mother's teetering voice from calm to panicked reels you out of your blacked out admiration focused on Beca.

After savoring everything there is about your girlfriend who you still have a hard time wrapping around your head that she's actually _yours_ , you walk the remaining distance keeping you two apart, purposely making sure what you say next is in range where Beca can hear you. "Yeah I'm here and I guess I should tell you I'm kind of _dating_ someone. She's kind of amazing," you add with a wink.

Beca's eyes roll to the back of her head, but you can't help but notice her smirk never fades. There's even a small patch of red blushing up on each cheek underneath the curve of her sunglasses when she hooks her index finger in the front your leggings, pulling your body closer to hers without a care to how disgustingly sweaty you are. Guess you could say you two are already _pretty_ close.

" _Dating someone?"_ Your mom's voice hints she's startled by the new information who may or may not have pinched at your self esteem, but to only come in with a full on punch to the gut seconds later by her high levels of exasperation. " _Wow, it has been a while."_

"Gee, thanks mom. Way to make a girl feel good about herself." For the most part, you hide your offence through a light chuckle and your hand shoots to play with the silver part of Beca's necklace after dragging your fingertips across her collarbone under her jacket.

" _Not saying it's a bad thing, honey!"_ Your mom quickly assures when it's heard that it may have came out worse than she intended. You're not entirely taking it to heart; it has been quite some time since high school that you had brought someone home for the parents and brothers to interrogate.

And though you haven't been completely off the charts with occasional hook ups throughout your years of college, it's definitely been awhile since your heart felt a strong sort of _zing_ every time you saw that special someone.

And let's just say seeing Beca makes you feel _electrocuted_.

" _Does this mean your father and I need to make some room at the Beale dinner table the night of Thanksgiving?"_

"Who is it?" Beca mouths this curiously and you inform her it's just your mother who gets a special type of eye roll when doing so. She's nods her head, respecting the conversation that you're planning to wrap up soon now that you're in the arms of your surprisingly _strong_ girlfriend, but Beca's hands have other plans when they shift from the front of your leggings, to your waist, then travel around to your backside and cup the bottom curve of each cheek, omitting an unintentional squeak from you during the process.

" _What was that, honey?"_

You shimmy out of Beca's grasp for the time being with a thrown glare to stop with the handsy, funny business, knowing how Beca and behaving are two _polar_ opposites that can never be in the same scenario. Also because you're feeling only _slightly_ awkward about getting felt up while talking on the phone with your mother, but also the risk and excitement of it all could honestly make you care less.

"Oh nothing," you reply causally for cover up, a little airy, and turn to face away from Beca and her hungry glare over your body that isn't helping you stay calm, but even with your back facing the girl, you could still feel her eyes eating away the little clothes you do have on; a plain black sports bra exposing all the time and effort you've put into your stomach exercises and matching black leggings that go perfectly with your morning run and hug your curves all the right ways. "I was just saying not to jump the gun about this one; she's a keeper that's for sure, but I don't need you and pops to scare her away."

"What did I hear about guns?" Beca says this a little louder than before, while subtlety flipping over her leather jacket to flaunt off one of her fancy, _totally dangerous_ , real guns placed snugly between her hip bone and belt before you fly out to cover the weapon as a reflex to hide the fact that your girlfriend is currently _packing_ serious heat and anyone could've seen.

And all Beca does is laugh evilly at your frantic behavior and steals a kiss to the cheek before back peddling her way to the driver's side of her car. The last thing you need is to witness Beca getting tazed from all the paranoia around campus.

" _What's her name? How did you too meet? How old is she? Is she a senior, too? Oh! How long have you two been dating and why haven't I heard about this mysterious girlfriend of yours?"_

"Slow down, mom, and catch your breath before you pass out," you joke teasingly after being slammed with a novel full of questions all at once. Taking it as a cue when seeing Beca getting into the car on the other side, you open the door and slide in the passenger seat, assuring your mother that you'd fill her in on everything regarding school and your dating life, but as for now, you had to let her go.

" _Please call, honey. Your father and I are very worried about you being in Barden during everything that is happening. Please be safe and call!"_ Your mother emphasizes dramatically and again, you assure her that though everything is practically a shit show, you're safe and in good hands. This earns a salacious wink from Beca when hearing it as she roars her engine to life and you only shake your head though it's completely true Beca's hands are a work of art, _if you catch my drift._

You end the call after your mother's demands to call and immediately connect your phone to Beca's aux cable; something you've earned while sitting in the passenger seat while Beca drove was being designated car DJ during the long drives to the cabin. Before Beca begins to drive, you cup her chin with your fingers, pull her face towards yours and greet her with a proper, shameless kiss now that you don't have you mom talking your ear off and can emit any noises Beca sneaks out of you without being worried about traumatizing your mom.

And _boy_ do you kiss her to make up for lost time.

"I missed you," you mumble across Beca's lips that are curved upwards after a while of expressing just how much you missed the girl with the desperation you put into the kiss. She tastes exactly how she usually does; a hint of mint from the nicotine gum you convinced her to try, mixed with the bitter aftertaste of her morning ritual black coffee. Not the best combo, but you still savor every second of it. "What are you doing here? Especially so early, I might add." You wipe the corners of Beca's mouth with your thumb where there's a visible shimmer from your lipgloss.

"I was about to go to the store and saw you running like a crazy person." You pull your face away from Beca's morphing smirk, rolling your eyes at her lack of motivation to exercise and even eat healthy, which really makes no sense whatsoever because it's no secret that Beca is _hot as shit_ , for lack of a better word, but she also has an _amazing_ body physique. "And since you got into my car, my plans haven't changed and guess you're coming with me to the store."

Giddiness erupts inside your body at the fact you're about to be out in public with Beca for the first time ever, doing something so _insanely_ domesticated with your girlfriend that you've been dreaming about (the more _PG_ dreams, that is) and you hide your excitement pretty damn well by a casual shoulder shrug and a, "I guess I'll tag along since I have nothing else to do," to keep it cool.

Beca rolls her eyes again over a smirk as she watches you pull the seatbelt across your torso and you steady the action without it looking like you're way too excited to get on the road. You aren't in the best outfit to go shopping in; the leggings, black sports bra and all your stomach out in the open, but you are also not one to tell Beca you'd skip out on spending more time with her.

That'd be _maniacal_.

"I kinda missed you a lot," you mention this through your cheeky smile and Beca side glances you out of the corner of her eye, keeping majority of her attention on the road.

"You just saw me last night, dork."

Which is a very true statement; seven hours ago to be exact, but you're positive that the second you leave Beca, you already start to miss the girl. "I know but still. It's strange how much I _crave_ to be around you, like I'm going through some sort of uncomfortable withdrawal."

"That'd be the blackmagic I used on you."

You smack Beca in the gut; not hard enough to jerk the car into a crash and possibly kill the both of you, but just hard enough to let Beca know not to mess with you when saying these things because, honestly, who knows if she's joking or not. And then she tells you that the feeling you two spent apart from each other was mutual, which makes your heart do all the sprinting, running a mile a minute. It's a growing occurrence over the month of knowing Beca that she has become more affectionate and you just can't seem to get enough ot it.

So you order her to say out loud that she missed you, and she does, and you think you die a little.

Plans are settled when Beca tells you that she's taking you to the store to pick up a few items and then she'll take you back to the cabin for breakfast-which she subtly announces that you'll be the one doing the cooking while she watches in the background- and to freshen up before another day of training. Shooting has been getting easier by the day, but you still have a lot to learn when taking in the fact you guys are officially only a month away from the ritual taking place on Halloween.

You aren't the only one improving in skills; Aubrey and Stacie have also surprised not only you, but Beca and Luke as well with their quick ability to learn things at an extreme speed. Of course, they're still struggling with the being cooped up in a house twenty four seven and all the missing posters of their faces around town are starting to freak you and them both out, but they're making progress. Slowly but surely, even when they think they've hit rock bottom.

The absence of communication with their families back home have to be the toughest for them, though their studies at Barden and missing classes come in as a close tie for first knowing those two together are the _biggest_ nerds known to man. Beca assures them that everything will be okay once this whole issue subsides, even though everyone, including yourself, becomes hesitant about believing her now that things are getting pretty serious.

Like... _scary_ serious.

But again, once this is over and those bitches are dead, things will return back to normal.

"How are things at the Bellas'?" Beca asks as she turns onto the highway, which apparently means the two of you are going to a store in Atlanta where the chances of being seen out together by students from Barden are less likely.

Almost _unlikely,_ but you don't want to test your luck.

The chances aren't one hundred percent that you two won't be seen, but the city is quite a bit aways from campus, especially since there's a closer store in walking distance from Barden. It does make you upset that you have to keep your relationship with Beca a secret when you'd rather show her off like a noble prize like an amazing girl like her deserves to be.

But whatever.

Things ( _hopefully_ ) will soon return to normal and you'll be able to post the cute, couple photos on social media and kiss her out in public without being cautious that someone could possibly catch you two.

"Honestly, things are getting weird," you admit in a more serious tone. "With it being Hell week at the Bellas-which I haven't ever participated in _once_ -the girls have turned into robots it seems like; they barely show any emotions now to the point where it's creeping me out and Gail and Kommissar have been giving me the cold shoulder since the Rush."

Beca raises a suspicious brow underneath her sunglasses, shifting the gears that separates the two of you. "That's strange." Her words do the exact opposite of calming that uneasy feeling you already had bubbling in your gut at the news. From the lingering glares from not only your sisters, but as well as Gail and Kommissar have been a frequent thing you've had to endure the past couple weeks. "I mean, if they wanted to kill you, which they definitely don't, they would've done it by now, so I think you're good."

"Beca!" You smack her again and smack her even harder this time when she starts to laugh at your current issue regarding your safety that is clearly _not_ humorous. "That's not _funny_! It's getting pretty sketch being around everyone."

"Witches are like lions; I bet they smell fear."

"You don't think I'm in danger, right?" you end this sentence with a wavering gulp, unsure if you're prepared to hear Beca's answer, because even though as far as the strange looks around the house, things have been normal-well, as normal as they can be for a girl pretending to be a witch.

Beca senses your fear through your shaky voice and immediately grabs for your sweaty hand due to the increase in your heart rate and laces her fingers through yours, giving a comforting swipe to the back of your hand. "You know I'd never put you in a situation where I thought you were in serious danger. Yes, this scenario is far from safe, but I'd take you out of there as soon as possible once I heard that you were in trouble."

You bite your bottom lip when Beca stops at a red light to fully look at you to make sure her words are believable, only then to split into a sheepish grin as your insides melt at this protective nature Beca is showing. Then, of course, taking advantage of the red light, you lean over the gearshift, hook your freehand around her neck and kiss her like she's a fragile piece of glass, slow and desperate.

Anyways, you believe her; you always do, unless she has given you a reason not to then this might change, but for now, it hasn't.

And you also trust Beca, probably more than you should, but again, until otherwise, you'll _always_ trust Beca.

Dropping the conversation to ease up the environment in the car, you rely on music to brighten the mood, landing unintentionally through shuffle on a song that couldn't fit the scene more. At the opening lyrics of the chosen song, Beca death glares you through her aviators to battle with your evil, Cheshire cat grin before you're singing along with Glinda, the white witch, to "Defying Gravity," in the highest pitch your voice can reach.

"Nope," Beca shakes her head, determined to swipe the phone away from you, but isn't fast enough to grab it before you lift the device out of reach while continuing to serenade her with one of your favorite musicals of all time. "Absolutely _not_ , Chloe! Change the song!"

"This is _Wicked_ , babe! You can't **not** like this song! It's a sin and should be in the witch world _-something has changed within me. Something is not the same!"_ You switch mid way through your sentence to sing more theatrical than intended while also using Beca's hand that is still connected to your's as a microphone, kissing her knuckles softly when there's a quick pause. " _I'm through with playing by the rules of someone else's game!"_

"You're ridiculous," Beca's laughing despite her word choice, which only urges you to keep her laughing because a laugh that warming should be happening twenty four seven. "Am I supposed to like this because I'm a witch? Is that where this is going?"

"Or because it's freaking _**Wicked,**_ " you reply with dripping sarcasm and a " _duhh_ " type of tone. Seriously, not liking _Wicked_ is potential break up material.

Just kidding.

You'd never be able to do that when taking in the amount of time it took for you and Beca to get together in the first place.

All that tedious, _paint drying slow_ amount of time would've just been a waste.

Plus, Beca's a _great_ kisser and has definite potential of being great at a lot of other things, so you guess you'll keep her around even when she bags on your music choices.

Eventually after setting her precious ego aside, Beca surprises you, showing off her impressive pipes she has locked in her tiny little body, as well as her knowledge towards the song even when she claims to not know it and sings Elphaba's parts while you sing Glinda's, and _boy_ , not to sound insanely cheesy or anything, but you guys sound _phenomenal_ together.

After flawlessly hitting Idina Menzel's killer last note and almost causing you to faint from swooning so hard, "I can't believe I just did that," Beca grumbles over a non convincing grimace in attempt to cover up a smile that's been present for quite some time now. If anything her little performance just earned her a whole lot of brownie points, making her _illegally_ hotter. "What have you done to me, Red? Got me singing musicals like some fruity _Glee_ member. "

"Oh hush. You know you coming to Barden and meeting my _amazing_ self is the best thing that has happened to you," you tease jokingly, not expecting Beca's response-other than a sarcastic retort from this, but getting the exact _opposite_.

"It's crazy to think that you're right."

You're still in awe over Beca and this only adds to it, which might seem impossible, but something about the girl never ceases to amaze you.

The feeling is mutual, by the way, if anybody out there needed any clarification that you're absolutely _mooned_ by Beca in every little way possible. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to discover that you've been head over heels for the girl since the first time you laid eyes on her.

All you have to thank is Gail and Kommissar for invading Barden and bringing along a masterpiece of a girl who now happens to be your girlfriend into your arms because, honestly, you don't know where you'd be in your life if you hadn't met Beca Mitchell.

"I know I'm an unpredictable, guarded, flight risk with a dark past and the habit of keeping secrets from you, but trust me when I say that you've changed me for the better. When I'm with you, I like myself more than I did when I didn't have you."

"I like me better, too," you agree, nothing but the truth in what you said and Beca gives you a smile that you rarely ever see; a smile so bright and uncharacteristic that it immediately makes you do the same.

There's a pang in your stomach when Beca removes her hand from yours to do all the fancy gear shifts to get the car moving once again; a pang almost strong enough to make you wince from the lack of warmth Beca's hand provided on the inner part of your thigh. You respond unintentionally with a sigh, to which Beca side glances you curiously, but can cover it up by bringing about a new topic.

Other than kissing her at red lights, or stop signs while you have the chance, you ask what has Beca going to the store so early in the morning and she tells you that Aubrey and Stacie have cleared out both her pantry and fridge after calling them human vacuums, but you back them up by claiming they have nothing better to do since they're technically "missing' except eat, train and continue melting their brains with rough drafting their college applications that they'll soon send once this witch situation blows over. She then claims that she another hidden talent up her sleeves that revolves around the griddle and happens to have a hot girlfriend that she'd like to impress by cooking up the _meanest_ blueberry pancakes in the books, tagged along with delicious strips of crispy bacon and freshly brewed coffee.

And, _of course,_ food in general is one of the quickest ways to your heart, spending time with Beca is another. Add them together and that is your own little paradise surrounded by fancy mahogany, scary weapons and high-tech DJ equipment.

Also, a whole lot of getting _handsy_ with the chef while everything cooks.

"I'm not really in a _shopping_ outfit, am I _?_ " You snicker once you take a look down at your leggings, and sweaty sports bra, realizing the closer you get to the city that you're also wearing zero to none makeup with your hair a sweaty mess on the top of your head.

"I like this look on you," Beca counters, side glancing your outfit with her half smile.

Raising an eyebrow up at how Beca could possibly like anything about your appearance when you're sure you smell like a wrestler's gym bag, "The fact that I have no makeup on or because I'm half dressed?"

"Both, especially the midriff. But mostly the natural look you have going on." Now you're sure Beca's delirious from being up so early because she is talking nonsense. "I sure am lucky I was able to rope you up-took me a while, don't remind me," she continues when you open your mouth to chip in on how it took a _Hell_ _of_ _a lot longer_ for Beca to get her head out of her ass then you and ask you out. "But I'm damn glad I did."

"Such a sweet talker," you batt your eyelashes playfully as your fist holds your chin up on the armrest as you stare Beca down. Of course this all is coming from someone who looks _perfect_ twenty four seven, just like how she is dressed now in the usual get up. Honestly, you'd give your right arm to see Beca dressed casual, in a pair of grey sweats, a baseball t-shirt and her hair in a high bun with a face clear of black eyeliner.

 _God_ , just the simple thought and pictures gets you all hot and bothered.

"I'm flattered, Becs."

"Was it enough for you to cook me breakfast instead? Maybe some second base action?"

You attempt to smack off Beca's shit eating grin by smacking her in the gut, but she blocks the attack with her arm and you can't help but join the laughter. As a reflex, you reach out to grab her hand and hold it, only to then be denied access when you notice her hand is occupied operating the gear shift.

Groaning annoyance in defeat while slapping your hand into your lap empty handed, "I have a love hate relationship with you driving a stick car."

"Wanna hold my hand, Red?" Beca cheeks over a teasing smile towards you and you battle her cuteness with a childlike pout.

The answer is all the time, but you don't reply with that. Sounds to desperate. " _Yes_ , but I can't without you somehow breaking your car and when I _can_ hold your hand, it's for seconds only, unless we are on the highway."

"Wanna drive it?"

You snort out an embarrassingly disgusting sound at the offer, unable to tell if Beca is joking or not, but when you don't see a hint of teasing on her features, you're informed that she is everything _but_ joking.

"You're serious?"

"Why not? Can't jab at my baby if you haven't taken it for a test drive."

"I thought I was your baby?" you test playfully through a smirk while you try to hide the anticipation when Beca starts to pull into some random gas station, going exactly by her word. Technically, you guys have already arrived in Atlanta and finding a store shouldn't be over a couple miles.

But did you mention that you have absolutely _no idea_ how to drive a stick?

"You are, _My Baby,"_ you melt at the confirmation pet name; the effect still not something you've gotten use to and don't think you ever will. "After my sexy car, of course."

"I really dislike you this morning, Mitchell," you deadpan as she undoes her seatbelt all while laughing evilly.

Like a lot of what you've been deciding lately, you end up telling yourself, _why the Hell not_ , and switch positions with Beca in the car. Already, the driver's seat is ten times more intimidating; the crazy sports gauges, the steering wheel now taking up space above your lap and the lack of leg room is definitely noticeable.

"Please don't crash my car," Beca pleas and you can't help but roll your eyes, though there isn't any guarantee that you two will make it to the store in one piece. She sure has a lot of faith in you. "Okay, so you need to hold down the clutch with your foot while cranking into first gear, then with your other foot you press the accelerator- but don't do it yet! Releasing the clutch at the same time as the accelerator is a bitch to handle."

Even though Beca just gave you simple, WikiHow instructions and you still feel uneasy operating such an intensely complicated car, you also feel excited to test it out. Literally for your bug, you have to put the keys in the ignition, start the car and put the car in drive-not all this clutch and gear crap that Beca is still trying to explain to you but you're too busy getting a feel for everything while mid panic attack.

"I need music first," you announce cheerful despite being at an all time high of confused and move to reach your hand over your phone, but then to get slapped away by Beca as she claims that now since she's in the passenger seat, DJing is her duty while you focus on not killing you guys.

She still uses your phone to play music, hitting shuffle to see what options she has through your wide variety of music taste in your library and you burst out laughing when the first song on shuffle is "Abracadabra" by Steve Miller Band, unable to think what a coincidence it is that _this_ song out of _all_ of them came on.

"You gotta be kidding me," Becs groans loudly, leaning her head back with some more animalistic noises as you begin to sing the lyrics that, again, have so much connection to the current situation. "Okay, focus on the road, Red. The last thing I need for us is to crash while listening to shitty music."

"You love it," You gush, sending kissy faces to Beca and she waves you off annoyed, but also trying painfully hard not to smile.

It's been awhile since you've had this much fun with someone even though the two of you aren't doing anything exciting and because of this, you really wish this morning could last forever; the careless singing, the shared laughter over absolutely nothing and the exchanged glances until they turn physical and the two of you are taking your time kissing each other, slow and sweet.

It makes you realize how freaking _perfect_ your life is right now.

* * *

You only stall the car a total of _four_ times before you managed to get back onto the road; one of those times being at an unfortunate setting with cars lining up behind you to turn, but Beca happily flagged them through while getting the car back up and running again all during your demands to get you out of the driver's seat so you no longer have to embarrass yourself anymore.

Naturally-and you would've never guesses the first moment you laid eyes on Beca- she gives clear, simple instructions and even sometimes puts her hand over yours on the shift to make sure you're putting the car in the right gear and tells you those sweet things like, " _you're so hot driving my car,"_ and, " _you're doing great, babe,"_ which melts you into a lovestruck puddle.

It's not how you expected your morning to go, not one bit and definitely gave you more anxiety than you feel comfortable with, but it's probably the best morning you've had in a long time.

And to make it even better, Beca hands you a red and black checkered flannel from her backseat to make you feel more comfortable about walking around the store with your womb basically hanging out.

It kinda smells like cigarette smoke mixed with Beca's usual, vanilla scent and is strangely running rather large in size-which makes zero sense if this piece of clothing is your five foot two girlfriends- but it's warm and cozy nonetheless and totally a shirt that you don't see Beca ever getting back.

At the store, you two find it easy to fall into casual conversation about whatever comes to mind. Beca talks a lot about what she did for fun back in California, like she usually does, and claims that she is flying you both down there to drown your livers in beer and to see an Angel's game- even though she could care less about baseball, but because you fancy it thanks to your dad and brothers, she would be willing to sit through a two hour game just for you.

And you kiss her in public in the meat aisle while picking up the bacon, just because you only have a certain amount of strength to resist her sweet moments and this morning seems to be your breaking point. It's freezing cold and has a weird stench of copper clouding around you two, but it's perfect nonetheless.

 _Perhaps_ the candy aisle would've been a better option to make out in.

Beca makes up for the lack of hand holding in the car and either combines your fingers together while you walk through the supermarket, or touches you anytime she gets as she lists off the supplies that she needs for breakfast. The store is boreline a _ghost town_ with hardly anyone shopping at this early hour, which is why you take advantage of kissing her anytime you get because the warm, happy aroma of domesticated shopping with your girlfriend as you two argue about which is better-store brand items or the original-is really catching up to you and might as well make the most out of it while you can.

It's when you two are picking out the right pancake batter when you hear your name being called from someone in the distance, and at least on the other end of the deserted aisle. Initially, you are confused as to who can be calling your name since the main reason why Beca and you are shopping in Atlanta is because there was a smaller chance of being recognized by someone who attends Barden.

But then, you start to panic because whoever it is-is getting closer to you and _definitely_ knows you on an acquaintance level, maybe even more, and you have Beca Mitchell, witch hunter _extraordinaire_ attached at your hip where she definitely _shouldn't_ be.

Or at least out in public.

"Chloe, hey!"

You wince because it seems like whoever is calling your name happens to be right behind you now and you already feel Beca tensing up even though she has removed her hand from your lower back and created a good amount of distance between you two. Turning around, you pray that it's someone who simply doesn't really matter, if you're being completely honest, but what you get is a tall, shaggy brown hair, athletic looking boy dressed in similar workout clothes as you who goes by the name of Tom Smith.

Freaking _**fantastic**_.

"Hey, Tom," you greet nervously, but also trying to sound convincing that you're actually surprised to see him-which isn't a complete lie since you're looking at the boy like he's a ghost. Your outfit, on the other hand, seem to take him off guard by the sudden interest his eyes find while roaming your body head to toe. "What are you doing here?" Why is anyone from Barden here this early on a Sunday thirty minutes from campus?

"I have my kickboxing classes in Atlanta that I just got done with and decided to pick up some stuff for the house because everyone else is too skittish to leave," Tom replies casually with his usual half smirk, making a joke out of something so serious taking in that most the abductions have been his frat brothers.

 _Awesome_.

So you make a mental note to avoid the city on early Sunday mornings at all costs if you plan on shopping with Beca-who by the way, is taking this intruder pretty damn well; she hasn't shot him with one of her dart gun things **yet** , so that's a plus.

 _Goddamit athletic people and their need to be healthy!_

"What are you doing here?" Tom flips the switch and the question alone creates a bubble in your throat as you think of an excuse to hide the fact you are pushing around a shopping cart full of breakfast supplies, all corresponding to the breakfast you're about to have with Barden's mysterious rebel. He doesn't let you answer before his eyes hover over Beca standing next to you and it cues a major panic attack to think of something _fast._ "You're from the Bellas' rush, right?"

 _Shit._

 _Shit, shit, shit, shit._

"Freshman? The one who stole Chloe from me?" He's joking, but there's a bitter undertone to his words and now you're flabbergasted that Beca hasn't done something witchy or plain and made him forget this entire conversation yet, or do something unnatural like turn him into a toad.

Or do something violent, which by the looks glowing on Beca's features seems very possible

"Beca." You think you're seconds away from exploding with anxiety as you feel the invisible beads of sweat roll down your face when Beca introduces herself to Tom and even reaches out her hand to shake his-or possibly _break_ his hand. "Mitchell."

Tom doesn't waste a second before grabbing her hand to shake, exchanging names so casually to hide the amount of tension you could cut with your pinky nail.

"Im tutoring her!" you blurt out uncontrollably as the tension becomes unbearable and you regret it instantly when received a scowling glare from Beca that thankfully goes unnoticed by Tom who seems to believe this little fib. How else were you supposed to explain that a _senior_ is hanging out willingly with a _freshman_? "Hence why she stole me away at the rush; she had some questions on... _economics_?" You really wish this didn't sound like a question, but you, again, panicked to think of a subject that you were somewhat good at and something he'd believe.

Because everyone who's anyone knows you're _God awful_ at Math and Science, so anything in those subjects was out of question.

"She's really bad," you don't know why you add this in and don't know why you say it through a whisper away from Beca who has a weaponizing look in her eyes, but you do. "Which is why I offered to cook breakfast while we spend the morning prepping before her big test tomorrow."

"Oh cool, so I guess this is a little study break to ease the brain from today's society and such?" Tom buys it _-thank God-_ and soon the anxiety of being caught out with Beca in public starts to fade away when it returns to a normal conversation.

It still doesn't wash away the fear of him outting you and Beca to Gail and Kommissar, or possibly one of your sisters, but you convince yourself that it worse comes to worse, beca will do something about it.

Beca, however, is still scowling at you because of the excuse you came up with, but seriously, come one, that was the first thing that came to mind and not like you could just spill that, " _actually_ , I'm shopping with my girlfriend, who happens to be a super badass _witch hunter_ and is a really famous DJ that has Grammys lining up on her shelves."

So, sorry Beca, but you were kinda stuck between a rock and a hard place.

Tom doesn't stay to chat with you for much longer when he announces that his coach has them running two a days for practice and needs all the energy he can get and that you two should catch up sometime, which you agree to, not missing the foam oozing from the corners of Beca's mouth when doing so. He warns you to be safe around campus with everything that's going on and you swear Beca is seconds away from exploding.

Or shooting him with a dart to make him pass out cold.

Either way, it's unsettling to know what your girlfriend can do.

He also sympathizes about Aubrey, claiming that he can't even imagine how it would feel if one of his best friends went missing. You try to act torn up about it, but it's a lot harder to fake being upset about it when you know that your best friend is probably passed out sleeping in Beca's guest room, maybe even with an extra body who happens to be missing, as well, knowing just how close those two have gotten with the time spent together.

But you thank him and state that you'd rather not talk about it because it hurts too much.

"Tutoring _me_?" Beca asks incredulously once Tom is out of sight after saying goodbye and she follows behind you while pushing the cart down the aisle. "Isn't it the other way around, Ms. _I'm-Really-Bad-At-Russian-Lit_?"

You cough up a fake laugh to go against Beca's teasing ones and continue pushing the cart away from your girlfriend, telling her that you guys should get out of here before you run into Gail and Kommissar next. It's reassuring when Beca tells you that being seen out in public together by Tom isn't as big of deal compared to if one of the Bellas or worse, Gail, saw you two hanging out together due to obvious history between them that you're still unaware of.

Chances are that he'll talk are very slim since he's still under all the blackmagic Gail and Komissar have been using, thus making her brain practically mush.

However, though he is not really a threat, you have a gut feeling that this won't be the last time you'll run into the boy.

* * *

Tonight you're showing off your Top Chef skills and cooking for Beca, Aubrey and Stacie, but mostly only care to impress Beca as Aubrey has already been introduced to your (not to brag) _fabulous_ dishes and Stacie announced that you could cook her a sandwich and she'd love it. For dinner tonight, even though it's a boring, ordinary Friday night, you want it to be special by all the effort you're putting into the meal and hard concentration as you carefully add the right amount of spices to the asparagus while the stuffed chicken with pesto cooks in the oven.

It's also why you declared a rule-which was _very_ hard to make- that Beca is banned from stepping foot anywhere inside the kitchen while you cook, just to avoid any distractions that you're more than likely to succumb to. Like that one time where you almost burned the cabin down while you two were busy making out and your hands and attention were caught everywhere on Beca's body _except_ for paying attention to the food.

So, you put your foot down with your demands of Beca staying _at least_ in the other room while she worked on some music for work, because _apparently_ being a witch hunter doesn't hide the fact that she has a real occupation away from all that supernatural stuff. You sing along to the songs you know while poking around the chicken, bob your head to the impressive speakers Beca has set up in her office that shake the walls with their powerful bass, and though it's taking a lot of willpower not to join Beca out in the living room, you stay strong.

Even when Beca disobeys the rules, announcing out of nowhere from the kitchen's door frame, "you being all domesticated in my kitchen is _incredibly_ sexy," you give her a _don't you even dare come any closer look_ and ignore her dark chuckles accompanied with that crooked smirk of her's by focusing on the task at hand, but can still feel her eyes glued to the back of your head like laser beams until she's returning back to the living room once she's been fed enough by your torture.

The last thing you need is to fall under Beca's hypnotizing spell of her's and forget all about the dinner you're eagerly preparing for everyone because this is the first time you've cooked for your girlfriend and want it to be _perfect_.

Eventually after cautious preparatory to each dish, making sure every side and entree is seasoned to Bobby Flay's standards, you turn the stove off, set the dining room table and follow through the cabin where you hear the muffled heavy bass and hoping to find the DJ crammed in work. You make it to a new room in the cabin that has the door closed but can hear the music blaring from the other side. Being polite, knowing how in the element Beca gets when she is working on music, you knock, but figure she's unable to hear you with the music booming from the other side of the door.

You enter the dimly lit room slowly, taking in all the expensive software and built in studio booth that still till this day surprises the Hell out of you that Beca has her own personal studio that someone would find at Columbia Records. Seriously, it almost makes you want to turn around and exit the room as soon as possible when remembering how clumsy you are- _practically_ a newborn baby deer- and how the smallest piece of technology in this room no doubt costs more than your entire life.

As you assumed from before, Beca is in the zone, muting out the world and any distractions that comes with it. But her working so intently is the main reason why you stick around, even with the fear of breaking something, because her working so expertly between transitions, the little nod in her head to the beat as she lip syncs the lyrics is the best view you've ever seen. _Of course_ , this doesn't come close to experiencing Beca perform live, but it comes pretty damn close.

Taking the initiative that Beca is unaware of your presence as she twists the dials on her turntables with a giant, expensive pair of earphones covers both ears, you creep up behind her, savoring how criminally hot DJ Beca looks in her habitat and slide your hands gently over her shoulders to avoid scaring the girl before sliding the headphones off her ears and replacing them with a lingering kiss to her closest cheek.

"Hey, DJ," you whisper into Beca's ear when you feel her mouth slowly quirking up into a smile under where your lips are lingering, quietly enough to give the greeting a coy hint. "Dinners ready."

In a swift movement, Beca cranes her neck to snag your lips in a gut twisting slow kiss; her tongue moves along yours in ways that almost cause your knees to buckle. Before this happens, however, you twist her desk chair around until you feel her kneecaps in your thighs and straddle the girl without breaking apart from the kiss. The kiss keeps its pace; she takes her time kissing you and you savor the delicious taste of Corona and sour gummy worms, but the heat bubbling inside your stomach and between your legs only intensifies

Slowing down the kiss but keeping the force strong, "you taste like the diet of a teenage boy," you joke teasingly against Beca's lips that gradually curve into a low chuckle while her arms wrap protectively around your ribs, pressing the fronts of your bodies together and you die a little because of two reasons; one, how Beca's hands go from groping in a sexual way to a protective hug around your midsection and two, how there's no better taste than someone else's laughter in your mouth. " _Very_ healthy, I might add. You didn't spoil your appetite, did you?"

Beca doesn't answer you right away and takes advantage of the closeness between your faces to steal a few more long lasting pecks to your lips. "Would you believe me if I told you that I haven't eaten since breakfast and even then I only had an egg and toast?"

"You see, that's hard to believe because you have an incredibly surprising appetite for your small size." You share a laugh with Beca at your joke, not fully expecting her hands to dart into the back pockets of your jeans, squeezing the area firmly, but not entirely hating the feeling, either. "What are you working on?"

Beca shrugs her shoulders without removing her hands from their current position over your backside. "Just experimenting around with some beats that are kind of rocky. Wanna listen?"

Beca shows you her music all the time, whether it's new material that's barely finished and just needs an opinion or music you've heard multiple times on the radio and have played an illegal amount of times on your ipod. So, you don't fully understand why this offer this time erupts a volcano of giddiness in your body as she slides her hands out of your back pockets and disconnects her headphones from the jack before pressing a bunch of colorful lights on her table that you have know idea what the do and clicking on a specific tab labeled, "2U."

 _No limit in the sky_

 _That I won't fly for ya_

 _No amount of tears in my eyes_

 _That I won't cry for ya, oh no_

 _With every breath that I take_

 _I want you to share that air with me_

 _There's no promise that I won't keep_

 _I'll climb a mountain, there's none too steep_

"It's kinda one of my own songs," Beca shyly announces and you feel her eyes studying your face and movements when they start to match the soft, EDM style beat of the song. "It's not really done yet so be gentle on me."

 _When it comes to you_

 _There's no crime_

 _Let's take both of our souls_

 _And intertwine_

 _When it comes to you_

 _Don't be blind_

 _Watch me speak from my heart_

 _When it comes to you_

 _Comes to you_

Maybe it's because Beca tells you it's a new original song of hers that she's tinkering around with and because Beca is more on the conservative side when showing the public her own songs, you can't help but feel extremely special that she is allowing you the honors of hearing it first.

You light up not even ten seconds into the song, recognizing that killer voice immediately as it flows through Beca's impressive studio speakers."Is that you singing?!"

"Yeah it is," Beca chuckles at your child like enthusiasm when pointing this out. "You like?"

" _Like_?" You scoff dramatically and absentmindedly twist pieces of Beca's hair around your fingers. "More like _love_! Baby, seriously, you should show off your voice more often. It should be a crime to keep something this beautiful locked up for no one to hear."

"I'm glad you feel this way."

You know, for whatever reason you aren't too sure of, Beca isn't going to automatically surprise the world with her own album, showing off her insanely talented vocals, but you are ecstatic enough that she's dabbling around with her own music and are more than willing to kiss that smirk right off her face when she makes a joke out of your statement. Hopefully one day she'll be confident enough to listen to you and take the world by storm with her killer voice.

"I'm actually going to release this song."

 _Or_ hopefully within a few minutes she'll be confident enough to throw this curveball, informing you that she's actually planning to show off her voice.

Beca continues at your puzzled glance, "I've been insanely inspired since I've came to Barden, no thanks to you, so I have a lot up my sleeves."

Quirking an eyebrow up at Beca's wink while watching the spinning vinyl tables on Beca's laptop with a bunch of other complicated buttons, "you saying this song is about me?" You dart your eyes over to the screen.

Beca shrugs her shoulders, jutting her bottom lip. "Guess you can say that."

"Pump the breaks, babe, we haven't even been dating for a _month_ and you're already writing songs about me?"

"We are about to kill a cult of witches together. I should be asking for your hand in _marriage_."

Beca's completely joking by this sarcastic response, but even knowing that she's entirely joking around does it not bring a hitch to your breathing and spikes up your heart rate at the mention of marriage. God, this girl is seriously trying to kill you-perhaps, maybe for your own sake since getting slaughtered by witches seems like an alternative you'd rather avoid.

"Is this your subtle way of asking me to marry you? Are you about to whip out a ring from your pockets and get on one knee? Because if so, I'm quite comfortable on top of you, so that's going to have to wait Ms. _Songs-About-Jane- Maroon-Five._ "

Beca lols her head backwards with a loud laughter to shake her entire body and you happily snuggle your face into the opening, inhaling Beca's intoxicating scent and soaking in the music vibrating around you two. She holds you as the song finishes and you can hear her singing along softly with the lyrics, but each word still sounds powerful.

"Anyways, there's that." Beca turns the music down in the studio, the powerful bass and music subsiding around the two of you. She awkwardly fumbles around with her laptop with you still sitting astride her lap until the music completely turns off and her hands return to their previous position in your back pockets, causing another wave of emotion to hit you like a tsunami. "So, dinner?"

"Thank you," you reply out of the blue instead of answering Beca's question and how stump she is by the response shows in the scrunch to the middle of her eyebrows. Needing to clarify where this is going, "for the song; its _dancy_ , and sweet and your voice is...God, your voice is just _wow_. No one has ever written a song for me."

"Well, how many famous producers have you dated in the past, Red?"

"Only one, currently, and I'd love to keep it that way." you counter smoothly, building your strength back up to form a playful grin.

"Let's see how good dinner is and I'll decide if you're worth keeping around."

Declaring with confidence that Beca is in for a eye opener with the meal live prepared, "after you try my food, you won't be joking about the whole ' _wife-ing_ me up' and will actually ask for my hand in marriage. "You stand up from your position when Beca gives your butt a soft pat and you announce that you'll go find Aubrey and Stacie for dinner while she sets up her plate in the kitchen. Remembering to hear something about Stacie killing time by playing darts after discovering Beca had one in the game room, as well as a pool table and foosball in the cabin, you head to the basement to retrieve your friends.

Skipping down the stairs, "Hey guys, dinner is ready if you- _OH_!"

Not thinking too much of making your presence known before walking down the stairs since there hasn't been a reason to be cautious before entering-that is until _now-_ you stop mid sentence when your eyes lock on Stacie, who is pressed up behind Aubrey's back leaving zero to none space between their bodies while she guides and instructs Aubrey's hand towards the dart board a distance aways.

You already knew prior to walking in on this scene that Aubrey and Stacie had something going on between them; the bright flushness in Aubrey's face when you made yourself heard and how she looked as if she just got done stealing cookies from the cookie jar only adding to your suspicions. What you weren't expecting is to walk in on it first hand, unprepared to even soak in the excitement you feel for your best friend. It's been way too long since Aubrey has been interested in someone and _excuse my french,_ but you really want your best friend to get laid.

"I uh, oh _wow_! Um…hi!" Glowing awkwardness like it's your damn duty to do so, you don't really know how to even process what you just witnessed; the closeness between the two, the hand dangerous low on Aubrey's hip, Stacie's face so close to Aubrey's ear as she whispered her instructions in a low enough volume that you could see the tremble in Aubrey's legs. "Dinner is...um...ready?" you ask in question form, pointing your thumb over your shoulder towards the stairs you're already walking back up, retracing your previous steps.

By now, Aubrey and Stacie have a visible amount of distance separating them unlike before where they could hold a piece of paper between their bodies without it falling. Aubrey's face is beet red and she's lacking eye contact-which is a uncharacteristic sight to experience- while Stacie is wearing her usual _radiant_ , smug attire over her features when she happily cheers to dinner finally being ready and is either uninterested or unashamed to care that you walked in on something that, by the looks, seemed pretty _intimate_.

"Thanks, babes; I'm _starving_ ," Stacie drawls out, skipping up the stairs pass you and heads up stairs, unfazed by everything that just happened.

Throwing all your suspension to Aubrey who is grumbling under her breath to, "save it," when your mouth slowly curves into a teasing smirk, you order that the two of you will be talking about the previous events later and isn't going to weasel her way out of it.

And then you comment about how dinner is _basically_ a double date between all of them and Aubrey ignores your giggles as she swipes by your shoulder and stomps up the stairs, leaving behind a cloud of embarrassment for your own personal amusement.

Dinner ends up running smooth and successfully with everyone loving the meal you cooked; Beca being the number one fan of the evening as she goes onto plate number three before she threatens that eating anymore would cause her to explode, but it the thought that counts and how she feels the need to remind you every bite that this chicken is _delicious_. Things come so naturally between all three of you; little dinners like this making it seem like it's been a frequent occasion between all of you and it's definitely enjoyable taking that everyone hasn't had a nice, home cooked meal with pleasant company in quite some time with the shit going on.

Eating tonight brings along a homey feeling next to Beca when she messes with Aubrey about whatever it is that she's teasing your poor friend about while she alternates between keeping her arm spread out on the back of your chair and holding your hand underneath the table as conversation spreads around you two.

The feeling isn't a feeling you haven't felt before; your family always had dinner together and it was always a time you looked forward to throughout the days in school. Being here with Beca, however, with someone who already means a lot to you and reliving this comfortable aroma and warm feeling is something brand new.

But you like it.

You like it _a lot_.

* * *

"You look different," Stacie says all of a sudden as she washes the dishes while you do the duty of drying them, but then stop mid motion as you dry a plate and give Stacie a skeptical look.

The two of you are cleaning up the kitchen while Aubrey went to look over her textbooks with the material she's been missing because being a bookworm is still a thing, you know, being _kidnapped_ and all. Beca left to get more beer after finishing the case she got prior during dinner as everyone is gone on beer number three as of now and claimed that alcohol is a necessity while digesting all the food.

You think she's ridiculous, but a _cute_ ridiculous.

"Different?" You echo confused; you don't think you look any different than how you've looked the past couple weeks. But Stacie absentmindedly nods her head as she tackles on to clean the next plate, keeping her focus set on the snow pile of bubbles in the sink. "How so?"

"I mean, it's not a secret that you've ditched the high heels, sun dresses and purses to replace them with ripped up skinny jeans, tank tops, converse and flannels, but I don't know. You seem more... _confident_ , I guess- not that I really knew you before the whole brainwashing thing went down, but day by day, I see it growing stronger."

It's completely true; you haven't even touched nor looked at one of your dresses that you practically wore religiously before you met Beca and decided that operating a weapon in wedges was a broken ankle waiting to happen-and let's not talk about how wearing a dress makes everything _impossible_ without the chances of flashing everyone your bum. But even then, it's like the outfits don't interest you anymore like they use to and you know for a fact that they aren't as comfortable as jeans and Beca's flannels.

How you spent majority of your life in heels and dresses is impressive alone because those things are far from comfortable.

"I kinda like it a lot," Stacie says cheeky and eyes your outfit over her shoulder while continuing to scrub the food off the plates. "I'm sure your girlfriend likes it, as well, since every time I'm looking at her, she's staring like a deer in headlights at you."

Stacie isn't the only one who has notice Beca taking a greater interest in your choice of clothing day by day; you've played it off like you hadn't, but out of your peripherals, you can enjoy the lingering look roaming over your entire body in an effort to be nonchalant.

"How did everything happen between you to?" Stacie asks curiously as she pauses her washing to rotate her body, leaning her lower back on the counter and you remember that the only person you gushed to about Beca popping the _girlfriend_ question was Aubrey. In your defense, Stacie _was_ present through all of this, though her recognition would tell her otherwise.

You explain everything from day one of meeting the rebellious freshman herself; Roxy leaving the Bellas' unannounced with her location still a mystery, Beca almost killing you multiple times with her choice of weapon that day, the tailgate and football game involving Mr. _Handsy_ who wouldn't stop touching you, the fall mixer at Sigma Beta's, then the rush at the Bellas where you didn't censor yourself one bit while talking to Stacie as you explained just what Beca did to you that day.

Oh how you forgetting the sensations brought to your insides with where Beca's hands were roaming you body and how her mouth _dominated_ your own in a brain melting way is literally **impossible** to forget.

Stacie gushes like a schoolgirl at your story of Beca showing up at your room after playing Romeo without throwing the rocks and how the two of you became official. You add in the extra sappy stuff, like how Beca makes you feel like you're floating one moment and invincible the next. How you've never met a girl like Beca but are damn lucky you did.

"You two are seriously _way_ hot together, I fucking love it," Stacie declares positively and you take this to heart because being called "hot" from someone who oozes sex appeal while brushing their teeth, basically creating the term out of the womb is something huge. "She still is way too intimidating for words, especially with how she shoots a gun, but I think the little twerp is growing on me. I remember the first time I introduced myself to her when we found out we were rooming together I swear she almost pulled a knife out on me when I went in for a hug."

You smile at the story because it is so Beca as she acts like physical contact from others is going to give her a chronic disease or something. It's a work in progress, but you take high honors in the fact that you no longer have to be the only one in the relationship initiating the hand holding, or kissing anymore and instead, Beca has a habit of surprising you in the best ways.

"God, I bet your guy's sex is _insane_." You feel your stomach plummet at the bluntness and swore if you were drinking something you would've choked. "I'm actually pretty jealous; it's been a hot second for me especially now more than ever since I'm, _well_ , missing and all," Stacie chuckles, missing the unpleasant twist in your facial features as the conversation just did a three sixty flip in the worse way. "I bet you anything there's cobwebs down there."

You grimace at the visual; it couldn't have been that long. Stacie has a line out people out the door willing to give their right arm in trade for just a simple _acknowledgment_ -Aubrey being one of them and the first in line.

"I just miss that sort of connection, you know? The intimacy, that... _buzz_ throughout your entire body when they hit that right spot," Stacie gushes dreamily, painting a picture inside her head.

"Oh _totes_ ," you lie out of your ass; you don't exactly know why you lie instead of just confessing you have no idea what she's talking about because you're a _god_ _awful_ liar, but shockingly Stacie believes you. You did, however, dig yourself a giant hole to climb out of because it doesn't look like the girl is even close to dropping the topic.

Stacie switches her glare into a mischievous, up to no good mask. "You gotta give me the dirty secrets here, Chloe, and feel free to leave everything on the table." _Oh no. This isn't good._ "How many times has Beca gotten you off in one round?"

Oh, so this is orgasms Stacie is talking about… _Oh God!_ You don't know the answer to this because, _hello_ , it's never happened- _ **yet**_ , that is. But here you are, lying to Stacie about sex when in reality, you're a freaking virgin who has -at the most- gotten to second base on a good day.

Figuring there's no point in lying anymore, "can I ask you something?" you ask cautiously and shy all of a sudden, but you don't know exactly why, per se, because Stacie leaves her door open for you at anytime when a problem may emerge, even with the small amount of time knowing the girl. Except, this is a problem that isn't the most comfortable to come out and admit. "It's about Beca and I," the gulp in your voice over the shakiness brings a light of interest to Stacie's eyes almost instantly, like she is psychic and knows what's about to come next.

"Problems in bed?" Stacie takes no hesitation before dropping the dish towel into the sink before drying her hands on a nearby rag and taking you by the arm to pull you over to the dining room table, ordering you to sit. "Is the sex bad?" Stacie blurts sympathetically while laying a hand over yours and this only adds to your growing uncomfortableness to the conversation as she is getting the _way_ wrong idea. Seeing how you don't answer her previous question by the gap in your mouth, she continues. "Is the sex too... _good_?"

 _Oh Jesus Christ._

"Actually, I wouldn't really know," you start to laugh nervously when one of your hands darts straight to the back of your neck to defensively rub the area. "At all, honestly. What's too good, or what's considered _bad_ sex." Shrugging this off, you find sudden interest down towards the table by your guy's hands away from Stacie's stare, avoiding eye contact like Medusa.

Glancing up only briefly when static silence floods the kitchen, Stacie's face is blank for a moment of her trying to process everything as it looks like she's trying to solve your beet red face for a clue, but then something clicks inside her head. "You're a _virgin_?" And how she says this makes it seem like this news is unimaginable. "Like _virgin virgin_? Not a born again _virgin?"_

You really wish Stacie would stop saying the word because it already makes you feel insanely embarrassed that it's a true statement, but whatever. You nod your head anyways to confirm this because you actually need her help with your problems revolving around uncomfortable hormones whenever you're around your girlfriend.

And maybe try to settle the urge to jump Beca's bones whenever you two kiss, or even touch each other.

"Is that why you were looking at porn? Trying to educate yourself for the bad ass herself?"

Your eyes almost bulged from their sockets at what Stacie just said and her teasing smile growing on her face doesn't stop the red in your cheeks from spreading. "Aubrey told you!?"

" _Duh_ , Aubrey told me." You scoff at this information in disbelief. Whatever happen to the conversation said between best friends is meant to be sacred? You don't care that Aubrey has a mega crush on Stacie and have grown quite close to the girl, announcing to someone that someone else was caught watching porn to learn about sex is on a whole new level of _not okay._ "Don't be embarrassed, babes. We all do it, even I did when I was going into high school."

"Really?" Something about Stacie getting curious on the darker part of the web eases you down a bit. Not fully, but a little bit. "It's not... _weird_ or anything?" Maybe it would be a different story if you told her you were watching porn, alone, in Beca's bed.

"Do you look up different math tutorials when you don't know how to do a certain equation?" You nod your head quickly; YouTube was a daily living spot for you when taking College Algebra. Very useful, you must add. "Then it's the same when not knowing how to have sex. The internet is very handy when it comes to that stuff."

It's not the best analogy in the book, especially coming from a _mega_ brain like Stacie, but it definitely makes you feel more at ease and less like a giant pervert while searching through porn videos in your girlfriend's bed while she's gone.

"I just can't believe you're a _virgin_ ," Stacie says long and dragged out, and it sounds like she's still taken back by the news. "Not that being a virgin is a _bad_ thing. You're just really fucking hot!"

"Thanks," you grumble out, covering your face with your palms and feeling the hotness from your cheeks. You don't know how to take it that people just assume you've done sex by your appearance or if you should be offended.

"So, you and Beca thinking about going all the way?" Stacie takes her hand back but locks her interest in you even deeper.

"I mean, nothing has been written in stone." Which is very valid. Beca has been nothing but patient with you, but it has gotten to the point where you really don't want to wait any longer-which is strange because you swore by a five date rule and you and Beca haven't even been on one real date. Unless you count target practice and quick make outs in her car as _dates_. "But I at least want to be prepared once the time comes. You've seen Beca; she's _extremely_ attractive and, of course, not a virgin. I want it to be special, but... _ugh_! She's so intimidating!"

"She's also head over heels for you, Chloe," Stacie quickly counters your doubts with something that instantly warms your heart. "Seriously, you guys have only been dating for like what...a couple weeks?" You confirm this, but mention that next week at the end of September is a full month together, which is just... _wow_. She hasn't gotten rid of you yet. "Beca doesn't look like the person to be stuck in the dating pool, but with you, Chlo, I swear she's moonstruck more than she is scowling."

"I _really_ like her, Stace," you swear this to the girl across the table, hoping to show through your tone that you haven't been more sure over something before in your entire life. "It's gotten to the point where whenever we kiss and stuff, I get this pinch in my gut, and there's a pulse between my legs that is _excruciatingly_ uncomfortable and I _want_ to go farther with Beca."

"That's called being horny, babe." Stacie snorts a laugh and you reply back with a response that you already _knew_ that. What you don't know is how to go about this specific... _mood_ when it comes to being with Beca. "And by kissing and stuff, what do you exactly mean?"

"Well, we kiss and it gets pretty _intense_."

"Gotta give me more. Like, is there lots of touching going on? Kissing in other places?" Stacie seems so relaxed and Therapist like when talking about something this personal, and it makes it easier to leave everything out on the table because you know Stacie would never purposely make you feel bad, or embarrassed about anything you're sharing.

"Well, she's _very_ handsy when we make out; her hands usually end up under my shirt or on my butt," you explain slowly and can already feel the heat rising in the pit of your stomach at the memories of where exactly Beca's hands have been.

"Okay, so she's felt you up. Anything else?" Stacie asks and studies your face when you reply back with a no. Has the temptation to go farther than second base been there? _Hell_ _yes_ , but like you've said before, Beca is intimidating and experienced and you're timid and worried about your performance when it comes to sex for the first time _**ever,**_ and those alone have prevented it from going any farther.

It's a blessing in disguise, really, because _of course_ you're unprepared right now with your levels of experience, but oh how you wish to go just _so_ much farther with Beca.

 _Sexually_ , that is.

"What do I do?" you ask defeated because you honestly have no other idea on how to solve your problems.

"You've touched yourself right? If not, I swear before even starting this conversation I'm making you lock yourself in the bathroom so you can fing.."

"I _have_ ," you quickly cut Stacie off, not needing to hear the rest of that statement and knowing this answer since high school when you first became curious. "Now more than ever, honestly...you've seen my girlfriend, right?"

"Oh I've seen her, which is why I'm so impressed you've held off so long to get into her pants."

"Trust me it's been _quite_ the challenge," you snort a laugh. "I always put sex off in the hopes of having a white wedding the day I get married, the rose petals, romantic candles and the expensive suite we'd rent somewhere exotic, like Bora Bora, or the Bahamas." You trail off as the image still sounds _heavenly_ to you. The true, special meaning you'd experience with someone you love till something that you want more than ever.

Although, something has changed since you've met Beca.

"I don't know about the whole roses situation because Beca seems like the opposite person to perform a romantic, _cliche_ gesture like that, but I can promise you still will take her time and give _all_ her effort when deflowering you." Stacie wiggles her eyebrows up playfully as your mouth gapes at what she just said and you watch her get up from the table, mentioning something about having a lot to get through.

You raise your eyebrow expectantly at Stacie as you watch the girl skip out into the living room of the cabin and coming back with one hand holding two beers and the other holding her laptop. Still not fully understanding what Stacie has planned up her sleeve as she pops open the caps of beer, sliding one over to you while opening the device.

And by the mischievous glint in Stacie's eyes with what you can read is that what she's doing is something _highly_ ridiculous.

"Welcome to Dr. Conrad's Sexual Education course 101 for beginners! I'll teach you all the basics in pleasing a special lady; the kissing, the tongue-ing and the finger diddling while making sure you excel in all three!"

You roll your eyes at Stacie's sudden _teacher-like_ tone and feel your face start to flush tremendously, but have an embarrassed smile on your face nonetheless. It's not how you pictured this conversation with your friend going, but better make use of the time alone to get some useful tips from the mastermind herself before the time actually comes.

* * *

Beca is a _great_ girlfriend.

It's something you've concluded while laying down on the studio couch in Beca's cabin while you admired your girlfriend sample more beats, listening to anything you had to say about what she was playing for you, but all you could announce was that they all were _amazing._

Which is identical to Beca in every little way.

But where do you _possibly_ even start?

It's just something that is really hard to explain into words, unless someone was busy fishing through your head between the millions of reasons _why_ Beca is the _perfect_ girlfriend. And it's kind of hard to believe that this is true, you know this, because Beca has told you she's never been in a relationship before, nor did she ever think she would be.

But if you hadn't of already known, you would've thought the girl was an _expert_ at making whoever's heart she was dating at the moment grow ten sizes and then melt into a pile of sappy goo with every little cute thing she does whether she knows she's doing it or not.

Because seriously, Beca is almost too good for you to deserve.

Like, how could you find someone that makes you roll your eyes and instantly makes you smile like a complete dork more times than you can count?

There's really no stable base to start with while listing all the amazing things Beca does for you, but a pretty big one is that she doesn't treat you like you're some fragile piece of glass that could break at any moment. There was even a time where she _purposely_ didn't kill a freakishly big spider in the bathroom for you when you screeched for her name and to add to this, she also _claimed_ it was a perfect way to practice before before Halloween comes around.

You almost cried for her to help, but the spider eventually was captured and thrown outside and from the adrenaline rush, you kissed Beca to death instead.

So, it was beneficial in the end.

She treats you like best friend, a girlfriend _and_ someone who can fight their own.

And even when you think you're not strong enough, she makes you feel _invincible_.

But that's not it.

It's like she has a sixth sense, or can read your mind and knows exactly when you need a hug, space alone, or a simple kiss to perk you back up in the _Chloe Beale_ mood. Add the spontaneous cuddles, coffee and breakfast sandwich surprises she gets you before classes and her being there to chat off her ear with your endless stories of the day is just the cherry on top to other amazing qualities.

Every- _freaking_ -thing about this girl is award winning girlfriend material; she's literally like no one you've ever met before and you're extremely lucky to call her yours.

The two of you are cuddled up in the basement where apparently Beca had a cinema size screen locked up and kept secret from you-even though it makes zero sense whatsoever because Beca _hates_ movies and when she does try to watch them, she usually ends up falling asleep or getting rather _touchy_ with you sitting next to her.

Even scary movies you can't for the life of you keep the girl interested with all the blood, guts and nudity you were sure would've intrigued your girlfriend, but not even minutes in and she's snoring in your lap.

Television shows, however, are strangely different and were luckily able to spark some interest in Beca with the show _Shameless_ , which the two of you are watching currently; your head resting in her lap as she massages your scalp with her nails to the point of falling asleep.

You're just about to let your eyes gradually fall shut at the heavenly sensations Beca's fingers are performing until you hear her speak all of a sudden over the T.V.

"So I uh…ran into my ex today," Beca, for the most part, says this pretty nonchalantly-other than the minor hesitation in her voice- and you spring up from her lap like the living dead, any form of sleep out of the equation at the mention of an _ex_. Beca assures you with a, "it wasn't anything serious, just saw her at the store, which is strange because I thought she still lived in Miami," when she catches the look of panic and paleness in your face.

And apparently you run into anybody at the freaking _supermarket_ , for crying out loud; first Tom now mystery ex.

 _Good grief._

The utter honesty-though it warms you beyond belief that Beca is able to talk to you about these sort of things- takes you off guard.

"Ex as in...ex _friend_?" You gulp, and are as hopeful as hopeful gets while the jealousy starts to bubble in your gut and because your hands start to shake. It's worth a shot, not that you have much faith in the response that you're praying for to come out of Beca's mouth.

"I mean, I guess. An ex friend who I use to fuck," Beca comments casually once again.

Umm…. _are you freaking kidding me?!_

"Was that necessary, Beca?" you ask in all serious while battling off the urge to scream, cry or faint-maybe all three.

"Are you okay? It looks like you're having a stroke." Beca laughs at this, though you clearly see **nothing** funny whatsoever in the recent information she just dropped seconds ago.

A stroke isn't necessarily what you're currently experiencing and should be worried out. Instead, it's the sudden occurrence of paralysis throughout your entire body except for your right eye that happens to be twitching uncontrollably, which is a valid response to Beca, _your girlfriend_ , telling you that she ran into an ex while shopping for beer.

It's not that you're worried about Beca doing something bad and that you don't trust her because you trust her way more after everything that has happened and you two have been through. Perhaps it's because you don't trust the other person included in the scenario and have no shame in putting a girl in place if she were to try something.

Not to brag, but your shooting skills have acing up by the day.

"Babe, it's nothing, honestly," Beca is still kind of snickering at you, but she grabs at your hands in a comforting way and it makes up for the laughing. "She's history and you're the present. I just wanted to talk to you about this stuff because I'm pretty sure that was couples do...I _think_?" Beca scrunches her nose as if there's brief doubt about saying anything at all and it's really stinkin' adorable.

"No, you're right; I'm just being dumb and slightly jealous, not going to lie," you admit even though claiming you are jealous is a knife to the gut, but since Beca has been honest with you for while now- _really_ honest over a lot of things- it's only right to do the same. So, you push your green monster aside and move on with the conversation Beca is willing to have. "You met your ex girlfriend at the store today?"

"Actually yesterday night when I went out to get that case of beer and not _girlfriend_ , but more so a fuck buddy."

You try not to cringe at the clarification because you don't know which one is worse. Disregarding the label this mystery girl has been given, "okay. What happened between you two?"

Beca bounces her head side to side thinking of a right combination of words to explain this answer. "Well, it's kinda a long story, but shortening it up a bit, she tried to kill me, I tried to kill her and we decided that it's best to stop fooling around with each other for the sake of our lives."

Okay, you've hit a whole new level of flabbergasted that words can't even form when you open your mouth to respond. There's a serious difference between verbal fighting, then breaking up because of it and physical, _near death_ fighting like an episode of The Maury Show.

"She's a witch, to clear anything up," Beca adds casually; you don't think it clears up anything at all, honestly, only adds more questions to your overflowing mind. "She traveled down the dark cult life for a while and was basically transformed into a black witch. Me, being a white witch and part time witch hunter found out and yeah...you can imagine what happened next."

"So, she's not like... _dangerous_ or anything, right?" Beca's eyes find yours and you already know the answer before she says anything at all.

"I don't _think_ so." You don't feel that this is reassuring, but you allow Beca to continue before allowing your freak out to make an appearance. "She was driven into our witch hunting business once we stopped seeing each other, thanks to my mom, so I'd like to think she's harmless."

"Oh that's reassuring," you mock sarcastically and aren't prepared to hear a laugh erupt from Beca, nor are you expecting to feel two strong arms engulf you into a comfortable hug before Beca's pulling back in to lean your head on her chest.

And it's bizarre how you instantly feel better.

"You wanna go for a walk?" Beca mumbles this question over you head where her mouth is pressed up against.

You twist your neck to look up at Beca as she changes the conversation so easily. "Don't think you're getting out of this so easy, Mitchell. You just told me you ran into an _ex_."

"Who is just an _ex_ and will always be an _ex_ , babe," Beca reminds carefully, highlighting each word with a sharper tone to make it sound believable.

And you _do_ believe her.

You just wish it wasn't an ex, and instead just a friend.

That'd definitely be more settling.

"So," Beca starts and you know she's about to drop the conversation again, but you don't feel the need to fight her on it this time. "How about that walk?"

"Can I borrow a hoodie?" You ask hopefully; a sudden switch in expressions as you morph into a little kid about ready to burst from excitement.

"Why? So you can steal another piece of my clothing?" Beca laughs, knowing that regardless of what you say it's true. You just _love_ wearing your girlfriend's clothes; it's like a subtle way of letting everyone know that Beca is your's and you're Beca's.

Well, not right _now_ since you guys have to keep your relationship a secret.

But in the future it will be.

Beca leans her face in close to your's, her lips just barely grazing over your's. "You can steal anything you want." And seals the deal with a soft kiss, making you completely forget about the previous conversation-even what you ate for lunch- and only makes you focus on how inhumanly soft her lips feel against your's.

So, you steal a mostly black hoodie from Beca's closet; one that's overly sized for the both of you, but is one the comfiest hoodies you've ever worn, and also has "Capitol" written on the back, so you feel kind of like a bad ass wearing Beca's record label. Definitely feeling honored that she'd let you steal this hoodie away from her for your own comfort, that's for sure.

You even steal a maroon beanie that is present on top of Beca's dresser and feels like it's festive for the start of fall and super freaking cute; Beca agrees when she comments those exact words when you appear out of her room. You, on the other hand, get introduced to a totally different appearance on Beca as she changed into a pair of light blue skinny jeans, her black and white chucks and a plain grey hoodie-the brightest and most _casual_ outfit you have ever seen her in, but nonetheless still wearing her overflowing sex appeal like a badge.

Now that you're all bundled up for the twilight weather outside, she leads you out into the forest by the cabin, hesitant on grabbing your hand to walk, but you can't do anything about it, either, because you also feel a wave of timidness around her all of a sudden. You don't exactly know _why_ when you've never had a problem holding her hand before, but you think it's because of the sunset casting down over the lake you two find and the romantic scenery of the fall colors surrounding the two of you.

But eventually, she slips her hand into yours as you two walk and you never felt more complete when you feel her fingers and chill from her silver rings tangling with your own and the immediate warmth you feel when your palms touch.

"I can't believe it's fall," you chirp excitedly as you watch your feet crunch the different color leaves on the ground, all of them mirroring the exact color of the the sky currently. "I think it makes sunsets and sunrises that much better. Plus, the aftermath aroma of rain is just _heavenly_."

Beca chuckles at your childlike explanation and sudden shimmer to your eyes when talking about this stuff. "I think that's what I like most about you," she says and you side glance her curiously, waiting for her to explain herself. "How you get excited over the change of seasons, the smell of rain and your love for watching sunsets-though I'm hesitant about watching sunrises with you because that means I have to wake up really fucking early."

"Sunrises are _amazing_ and I can't wait until the day can officially spend the night and wake you up at the crack of dawn with a cup of black coffee, wearing one of your over sized t-shirts and nothing on underneath so we can watch the sunrise together," you reply giddy and your excitement spikes right back up at the spur of plans. You just wish it could happen sooner rather than later.

But it's almost October, which means it's almost time to get your life back.

With, of course, a couple of changes.

"Now _that's_ an image I could wake up to. Would be even better if you were naked when you woke me up." Beca curves up a wolfish grin as her eyes scan your body and you playfully poke her in the stomach to get her to stop. She does stop and actually sobers up before she starts to speak again.

"But seriously, I wasn't really one to _admire_ anything at all. I lived a dark life, battling dark monsters, but ever since I've gotten to Barden, you've been the bright light that has opened my eyes to so many beautiful things- _you_ being the most beautiful."

You bite at your bottom lip to prevent it from quivering because you know Beca would comment on how soft you are, but right now, with Beca pouring her heart out to you for, like, _the first time ever_ , it's a pretty big deal and melts your heart she's able to do this around you after living such a guarded life for so long.

"Fall kinda reminds me of you," Beca mentions with a smile as she leads you are to a bench looking out into the lake; a perfect spot to watch the sunset. Once seated, you waste no time before scooching till there's no space separating you two and happily lean your head on her shoulder while her arm shoots behind your back to reel you in closer.

"Yeah?" you ask at the statement and Beca hums softly in response. "How so?"

"I never really appreciated the season alone, but in a way, fall reminds me of change, and how you were _-weirdly-_ able to change me for the better. The leaves remind me of your hair and how it switches shades depending on light where it can go from a bright red to a deep auburn color at night-though the leaves have nothing on your radiant color."

You giggle at the compliment and are thankful that your face is being smushed up against Beca's chest area to avoid her seeing all the blushing you are doing.

"Autumn is also a very… _comfort_ round season as we prepare ourselves for the drop in temperatures by the crisp air, but it also gives people a chance to learn about what makes them feel warm and safe," Beca continues; her voice throughout the evening having this deep, almost tired raspiness to it only now can you really hear and feel the affect it has on you. "And perhaps the reason why I never appreciated the season before was because I never had something in my life so rawly beautiful that I felt so comfortable with, but now I do, and I'm here to admit that I really, _really_ like fall now."

You take a deep breath to steady your hurricane of emotions-though it feels like a monsoon, tornado and hurricane mixed in one that's going on inside your stomach at how uncharacteristically sweet, and romantic Beca is being this specific evening. You have no idea where it came from; it's like you're meeting a brand new person-a _stranger_ for the first time ever, yet it's still the same Beca you met that day at orientation and has stolen your heart.

Lifting your head up from Beca's shoulder with the same megawatt smile you've had on your face the entire night and murmuring a teasing, "you only saying all these sweet things to me because you want me to cook for you again?"

"Maybe." Beca throws you a wink to which you only roll your eyes at, but she goes on for a moment about how great your cooking was and wouldn't be opposed to being the judge for anything else you want to cook for her-which definitely means she watches the Food Network channel and, okay, did you just find your _soulmate_? Her eyes flick over to the sky on the other side of the lake. "Sunset is almost over."

You follow her line of sight and she's right; the sun is barely visible and the glowing orange, pink and red colors are starting to fade in the darkness.

"Since you love sunsets so much, I know just the thing to make them even _better_ ," Beca vows and really, you think it's impossible because you're already sitting here, in perfect weather-not too cold, not too hot- dressed in Beca's clothes with Beca tagging along as you two soak in the sunset together.

You don't have time to test this, however, because in a swift motion that you were completely unprepared for, Beca rotates her body to swing one of her legs over your thighs, expertly switching positions with her now straddling you and you caught frozen underneath and clings her hands to either side of your neck. Again, she says nothing but has that _look_ in her eyes, and only uses her hands to pull your face towards her's and when your guy's lips meet, she kisses you thoroughly, and takes her time when doing so.

Your hands are stumped on where to be placed, taking in the fact that the positioning this time around has been flipped, but you eventually come to a decision that your hands are the most comfortable on either side of Beca's waist under the hoodie she's wearing and you use your fingertips to trace the warm skin underneath while your tongue savors every flavor coming from Beca's mouth.

And you don't know how long you guys are doing this, kissing each other like you have all the time in the world, but it's definitely one way to make sunsets even more enjoyable.

You can only imagine what tricks Beca has up her sleeves during a sunrise.

Guess that's just something you're just going to have to wait and find out.

* * *

"We have an emergency," you announce all of a sudden as you enter the guest room where-luckily- Stacie and Aubrey aren't engaging in anything suspicious and are actually sitting on opposite sides of the room. They hear your unannounced entrance and both give startled, twin looks when you enter. "Beca ran into her ex."

"I thought she never had a girlfriend before." Stacie, who is busy filing down her toenails on top of the bed, asks curiously, taken back by the term "ex" when everyone who is familiar with Beca knows she-before you, of course- was anti-relationships.

Well, Stacie, that makes two of you.

You take charge for the empty spot on the bed next to Stacie, leaving room for Aubrey who takes the space immediately and smash your face into the bed sheets, tired and on the peak of overwhelmed after your's and Beca's conversation last night. Monday's suck regardless, but after Beca dropped you off last night at the Bellas' all you could think about was this mystery girl and it haunted you all of today, as well.

Rotating your face away from the sheets so Aubrey and Stacie can hear you, "she said this girl was never a " _girlfriend_ ," but instead a " _fuck_ _buddy_ " which honestly doesn't make me feel any better," you admit this in a whiny voice, as if you're seconds away from crying-which you definitely are not going to start wailing, but the thought of Beca having sex with someone else still stings.

It definitely brings along expectations once you and Beca get to that point, along with some unappreciated pressure.

Even though they aren't the greatest friends and are at each other's throat majority of the time, Aubrey is going the sympathetic route with this confession, assuring to you that Beca has fallen hard for you and some history _bimbo_ isn't going to ruin her intense feelings for you. Stacie is driving down the road, going a hundred miles an hour and is destined of obtaining this girl's first and last name so you guys can totally creep on all her social media accounts-something you're not _entirely_ opposed to, though you're worried it may make you feel shittier than you already feel.

"You don't think Beca would cheat on you, right?" Aubrey asks cautiously, like you'd be a complete fool if you answered "yes" to this question.

So you quickly respond back the opposite, believing one hundred percent that everything Beca has told you last night was the God honest truth and she'd never do anything to deliberately hurt you. If she said that what her and this girl had was a long time ago and that she feels absolutely nothing for her, then you believe her.

"But seriously, do you have a name for this _so-called_ ex? Rule number one to any girl friendships is creeping on one's ex girlfriend or boyfriend to boost self esteem," Stacie steers the conversation back to her previous idea, determined to crack down on this girl like she's the next Nancy Drew.

Beca didn't tell you a lot of personal information about her ex, other than the fact she's a witch who tried to kill Beca and lived in Portland Maine where they met in high school. However, Beca did casually drop a first name that has pretty much been indented into your brain. "Jade from Maine," you inform grumpy to Stacie and she's already making moves to her laptop and tackling the internet while typing in the information.

Not that you haven't already tried this all of last night; you spent hours looking up this Jade chick and found literally _nothing_. Maybe you were looking in all the wrong places and obviously suck at this internet stalking stuff, but all you found out was Jade is Casper on the web.

"Found her!"

Okay, obviously you do suck at this stalking stuff because Stacie found her in literally _five seconds_ without any snags in the road. Normally, you'd ask questions on how she found this Jade girl so fast with only minimal description, but now you're way too concerned about the physical looks of this girl that you basically rip Stacie's arms off her body when you yank for the computer to get a look for yourself.

And _Goddammit_ , she's hot.

Really freaking **hot**.

"I guess her name is Jade West and she's an actress. Didn't take long to find her taking that the population in Maine is fairly low and that there's only one Jade West who went to Deering High School, exactly where Beca went," Stacie fills in the blank spaces, but all you can focus on is how _intimidatingly_ attractive this girl is in **Every**. **Single**. **Picture** , you click onto while scrolling through Facebook.

Knowing her last name now and praying to all the higher powers that her Instagram isn't private, non existent and she suddenly got uglier over time, it doesn't take long to run into that same perfectly sculpted face, along with that little blue check mark by her name to slap you in the face with all the envy and jealousy in the books.

The worse out of all of this-even though confirming that this girl is _flawless_ sucked quite a bit- is that Beca's Instagram name comes up that she follows Jade's account; her little blue check mark matching her ex fuck buddy's and their millions of followers they have while you have only a thousand- which you thought was impressive before you met a super famous DJ and then started dating her.

"That's Beca right there." Aubrey points out in a certain photo taken yesterday and, _of freaking course_ , she's right when your eyes focus on that infamous eye roll and killer smirk captured in the photo under one of the arm's of Jade holding Beca in a side hug. Seeing it pinches at your heart, but also lights a fire inside your stomach that's a completely new feeling because you've never gotten this jealous over someone.

"Never thought I'd be thankful for going shopping for milk, but this time I ran into this cutie. So good seeing you, Grumps-you don't age one bit," you read the comment for the picture out loud through gritted teeth as you still can't get over the fact that this girl is _touching_ your girlfriend. Also, it doesn't help that Beca **liked** this photo, as well-thanks to the Instagram update where you can see these things now.

Plus, the nickname, really? Grumps? That's really freaking creative... _not_.

And did this bitch just call Beca **cute**?!

"Damn, I was going into this blind, but I didn't expect her to be this _fucking_ hot," Stacie breathes out impresses.

"Stace, not the right thing to say right now," Aubrey reminds in a scolding manner-maybe herself a little jealous- and Stacie fake pretends to zip her lips and throw away the imaginary key. "Remember what you just told me, Chlo. This Jade girl is old news; you're the present. Yeah, she's pretty and stuff but that doesn't mean anything."

"Her eyebrows are _immaculate_ ," you hate that you just complimented this woman, but seriously, her eyebrows are out of this world. Even with the time and effort you put into your's, they don't even come close to looking like Jade's and that alone is a confidence _demolisher_ , if you're being completely honest.

Which you are.

"She has _nothing_ on you, babes! Who cares if she's famous! She's so pale compared to your golden skin, plus, her blue eyes have _nothing_ on your's," Stacie floods you with compliments; Aubrey agrees to all of this while adding her own comparisons, like how her hair is so dull and lifeless compared to your's and you appreciated from both of them how they're trying to bolster your self esteem even when it's hit rock bottom.

The hair comment, though, totally inaccurate.

Jade is one hairflip away from being in a Neutrogena commercial.

"She also has _giant_ eyes!" Aubrey adds when clicking on a specific photo.

"But her _eyebrows_ ," you remind sadly, still not over how perfect they look in every photo.

And it seems to only get worse as you scroll deep into the stalking, landing yourself a couple years ago when more and more pictures of her and Beca appear for you to see; one photo of them clearly intoxicated and leaving no personal space separating between them to the point of kissing being your breaking point.

You hand Stacie back her laptop and slam your head back into the sheets, defeated and feeling _icky_ from the green coat covering your skin.

"It says in her bio that she lives in Miami. What is she doing in Georgia?" Aubrey questions as her and Stacie continue looking through the hundreds of photos this girl has posted on her account; a hundred photos reminding you how criminally gorgeous one person can be.

Maybe she has a _horrible_ personality.

"Beca never really said because she wanted to go on a walk, but I guess Jade is a witch-a **black** witch that also tried to kill Beca, which is a long story that I haven't even heard yet," You mumble in the same defeated tone and completely miss the bulge in both Aubrey and Stacie's eyes at the mention of trying to _kill each other._

"Well, I guess it makes sense why this girl also lives in a black wardrobe." Stacie studies some more pictures and, yes, Jade wears _a lot_ of black. She also looks _amazing_ in black, which bashes your mood even farther into the ground- thanks for the reminder. "And _Jesus_. Talk about couples therapy if they were literally at each other's throats."

"Tried to _kill_ Beca?" Aubrey, who is still not over what she heard, echoes your words in disbelief. "What kind of relationship did those two have?"

"A relationship full of crazy, steamy romance and a ton of witchcraft stuff-both are two that I don't have any experience in," You grumble and your voice shifts back into that whiny tone.

"Okay, we are done." Stacie slams her laptop shut and mindlessly throws it to the other side of the bed. "No more thinking of this Jade girl, no more comparing yourself to this Jade girl and no more insecure Chloe; I don't like it."

"Neither do I," Aubrey agrees and pulls away one of your arms blanketing the childish pouting on your face. " You're seriously worried for nothing. Chances are, they'll drift apart with living on two opposite sides of the country. Yesterday was just a fluke; a coincidence- even though we don't know why she's in Atlanta. You have nothing to worry about, so I'd really appreciate it if I could get my overly confident, but humble best friend back, _please_?"

Stacie nods her head to everything Aubrey is saying and it kind of makes you feel better. Kind of.

You nod your head with a small forming smile, tired of dwelling on an issue that isn't even important. The jealously is still present, but you figure only with time that you'll soon forget all about this Jade chick and you and Beca could get on with your life together.

As if Beca knew the main conversation of the night was about her, you hear your phone go off and it's the devil herself lighting up your screen. She's been out all night "taking care of something" and would call you when she's finished. Transforming from a weeping, broken hearted schoolgirl to a giddy, over the top elated one at the realization of how much you've missed Beca today, you spring up from the bed and skip out the door to get some privacy away from all the cat calls and extra noises so you could talk to your girlfriend.

* * *

After the phone call, Beca brings home a pizza for all of you to share before she mentions curfew for Barden students being taking extra serious due to another abduction on campus during the weekend at the gym; you already knew of this due to talk around the house. It was another star athlete, Rick Matthews, star kicker for the football team and _apparently_ Barden's last straw when it came to the kidnappings because they cranked up the paranoia to full blast from last week to this week.

It's around eight-which is the earliest you ever left Beca's cabin- when she takes you back to the Bellas, hoping to beat curfew before police start to ask questions and things begin looking suspicious. You can't help but notice that Beca seems tense the entire drive back; she not nearly talking as much as she usually does and when you tell her about your day-even though it was just a usual, boring Monday- she doesn't seem as interested as she usually is.

And though she's uneasy about something, _whatever_ it may be, because when you ask, she declines that anything it wrong and it makes you worried that she could possibly be in danger, she still does the little things that make you feel more at ease, like hold your hand whenever she's not switching gears, and gives you a sweet goodnight kiss, followed by a ritual goodnight text that you've came to love so much.

Although it's reassuring, something is still bugging you at how Beca acted tonight and how she wouldn't tell you anything, which is why you are brave and quiet enough to sneak out of the house when you're unable to fall asleep, avoid all the police posted up at every corner on campus and are able to make it out into the forest where you use to walk off stress from finals when that time of year came.

It's been awhile since you've walked off your thoughts since Barden is pretty much on a campus quarantine, but it use to be a frequent thing to do. The space, the alone time and enjoying the cool night breeze hitting your face was always so refreshing to you. Even tonight there's a sense of peace around the woods as you walk around with no destination.

That is until someone charges at you full sprint, knocking you straight on your ass with minor whiplash and this guy to trip over his feet, sending him down into the ground, as well, when he is unable to keep his balance.

You groan in pain for a moment due to the heavy hit you just endured and are pretty sure you just got the wind knocked out of you. Standing up slowly, careful not to move your aching body too fast, or the wrong way, you twist your body to face down at the culprit who caused the collision in the first place, scowling in rage as he should've been paying attention to where he was going-not that there is many people out tonight or _should_ be out.

It may be dark outside, but not _that_ dark to run into someone carelessly.

"Are you insane?!" You hiss at the man struggling to get up, the pain in your head from hitting the ground the worst. "What the Hell are you even doing?!" Then, your rage quickly morphs into fear as you think about what could possibly be the reason why this guy was sprinting blindly at night in the middle of the forest.

The guy finally gets up from his position wearing a terrified mask and you soon realize that he's no stranger.

"Tom?" You kind of think that you've been knocked into another dimension, or the darkness is playing a trick on you, but as you study his face and the unusual absence of that half smirk he always has on his mouth, you understand that this isn't some kind of joke.

"Chloe!" Tom yells your name shaky, startling you at the volume and it's the first time ever that you've heard the boy truly sound _scared_. Of what? You have no idea, but by the looks of it, it doesn't look good. "We have to get out of here! Sh-she-she's not safe! She's dangerous, Chloe! We need to _leave_!" He grabs at your wrist to yank you in the other direction, ready to take off sprinting again, but you stand your ground, confused as to what he is talking about.

Honestly because of how scared he is makes anything that comes out of his mouth incoherent by all the panting he is doing, and also, who is she? Who is he talking about that is so dangerous? If this has anything to do with Gail or Kommissar and possibly your sisters, you're in no way equipped nor confident enough to kill a witch right now without your girlfriend.

So if that guess could, like, not be true, that'd be _fantastic_.

"That-that.." He stutters, only slightly making more sense as he calms down enough for you to understand him. "That _freshman_! Chloe, there's something about that freshman! You're not safe, we need to get out of here!" he repeats through a screech for the hundredth time in seconds and tries to run off again, but really, your head just hurts so you don't move, and it's late and you're worried about Beca and how she acted earlier and…wait.

Did he say _freshman_?

You're about to ask him to repeat what he just said, but not before his entire body freezes, and his panting suddenly pauses, along with his whole respiratory system before everything falls forward, body going flaccid and his forehead smashes straight into yours as his body takes the journey long straight into the ground next to your feet. You grip at the area just above your right eyebrow where Tom's head connected with, howling in pain as the throbbing from before only intensifies.

As you try to figure out what the freaking _Hell_ just happened to make Tom pass out cold out of nowhere, Beca is seen running towards you from the distance in the darkness where Tom was once standing and she's covered in that nauseating black junk that oozes from the witches, mixed with real blood-hopefully not her own- and is carrying a shotgun, looking just as terrified as Tom, perhaps even more.

"Hey, babe!" Beca breathes nervously and a little too high pitched for liking when she makes it to you. You're still cupping your forehead and the goose egg that's forming underneath, trying to piece it all together but coming out with blanks.

You'd be lucky to make it out of this without a concussion or a black eye; both are equally horrible to experience-though the cost of covering up a black eye might as well just kill you knowing the prices of makeup.

In her hand that's fisted together, however, you catch a familiar looking weapon that is known to shoot darts- darts that cause people to pass out unexpectedly and you now understand why Tom did what he did.

"Beca, what's going on?" You ask skeptical and a little stern, clearly not having the energy, or patience to fluff around the current issue revolving around a passed out Tom laying at your feet and why he was sprinting away in fear from, apparently, _your girlfriend_.

Beca laughs nervously this time, and grabs at the back of her neck, eyeing Tom's lifeless body on the ground. "Yeah…" she drawls out, which doesn't help your stress and anxiety levels. "We have a problem."

* * *

 **Happy first day of Halloween! I apologize for the wait on this chapter, hence why it's so long, but I really appreciate all the feedback from you guys! It pushes me a lot harder to get the next chap out there! Things pick up next chapter taking that this story is about a third of the way through-only one month left! So with that, leave me your thoughts and yes…maybe Beca and Chloe will finally have sex ;)**


	13. Chapter 13

**Suppp, pitcchesss! Apologize for the long, extremely long wait on this chap. Senior year of college ain't playin' around with me THIS YEAR. However, I hope this LONG chapter filled with an excruciating amount of sexual tension makes up for the wait ;)**

 **Find me on Tumblr (OmACAgee) and scream at me about PP3 b/c I'M STILL NOT OVER IT!**

 **(I DO NOT OWN PITCH PERFECT NOR THE SONGS MENTIONED)**

* * *

 **Chapter Thirteen: Minty Anniversary**

There's a wave of panic that washes through your body when seeing Beca covered in the one substance that automatically means bad news, but your brain is throbbing on a whole new level of pain against your skull that it makes it hard to think about anything else but the growing headache you're experiencing.

And really, that should be the least of your problems because you currently have a lifeless Tom out _cold,_ laying at your feet who was sprinting away from your girlfriend covered in witches' blood, who also happens to be swinging a shotgun out in the open like a set of car keys and is _occasionally_ checking the perimeter for only God knows what and _that_ and your safety against whoever she in hunting should be your main concern.

Your _only_ concern.

Gripping at your head, the vessels about ready to explode, "Beca, whats going on?" you grumble this out with slight annoyance, unable to fit all the pieces together. You haven't been given any from the start and absolutely hate how Beca is taking the situation so calmly when it definitely shouldn't be.

All you wanted was a nice, peaceful walk alone to clear your mind and instead, you receive a second head protruding and throbbing against your skull.

"Why...w-what was Tom talking about?" You shake your head confused and instantly regret it when you do because it amplifies your already throbbing pain.

Even through the darkness, Beca visibly pales like she's seen a ghost and makes it a personal challenge to avert her eyes away from yours like you're Medusa and would turn her to stone if she were to meet them. It only adds to the panic, because it's not very often- _rarely_ , as a matter of fact- that Beca shows any sort of fear towards a situation, so seeing it now at a time like this is just _lovely_.

And by lovely, you are totally thinking to yourself, _oh shit._

Beca releases a tired sigh after checking the area once again with her gun that has a flashlight attached to the top and lets it fall down to hang at the side of her leg. She pinches the bridge of her noses she collects her thoughts and you know what's coming next is about to be a mouthful. "Luke and I were hunting when he claimed that there had been some " _suspicious_ " activity going on in the Barden forest that could possibly be more harmful to the students on campus than the Bellas'."

You follow along as best as you could while trying to push aside the throbbing in your temples and rattling between your ears, not fully understanding what could possibly be more dangerous than a house full of _witches_.

Maybe vampires, or werewolves.

Perhaps even demons.

But witches and their freaky satanic practices, along with their witchcraft ranks pretty high up the latter of _bad_ _things_ to be up against.

Beca removes her black covered hand away from her nose, finally looking you in the eyes. She's an absolute _mess_ when you really get the chance to look at her; she's covered in witches blood, as well as her own, but she's more a _hot_ mess who had a rough night than anything.

"You remember how we saw Gretchen in the forest, when you found out everything about me...about the cult?"

You nod your head as a response; it's a night that you shouldn't even remember because of the succubus rum you happened to drink before the mixer, but it is a night that you can never forget no matter how hard you tried. Twas the night that showed who Beca really was; her expert shooting, the multiple kills she performed, and though now that it's more sexy than anything else, back then it was _terrifying_.

"Well, there's the witch army, which happens to be all of the Bellas' who prey on innocent males, as you already know, but then there are the witch predators that are plain out _dangerous_." Again, both forms of witches are gangrenous, you think to yourself, but allow Beca to continue. "Those are the witches whose souls have been sucked from their bodies and given to Gail and Kommissar to make their appearance young, and godly looking."

"So...they're dead... _witches_?" you ask through a gulp-though witches doesn't seem like the right term to use for these creatures and in fact _zombies_ sound a lot more suitable.

"Basically." Beca shrugs her shoulders, again acting as calm as ever while explaining the news. She bends down into a squat position to flip Tom onto his back in a smooth motion, checking his pulse to make sure she didn't kill him- _how thoughtful, Mitchell_. "Guess now that the nest is starting to get bigger, Gail and Kommissar needed their own set of guard dogs, especially since I know they're not stupid and know _exactly_ who I am." Relieved that Tom is breathing, apparently, since Beca stands back up to your level after checking his pulse and starts to examine your face, softly touching around the tender bruise. "They're little nasty fuckers, extremely strong and fast and still can use spells."

"But why was Tom running away from you?" you ask curiously in between hisses when Beca's thumb touches a tender area since her story only answers why she is covered in witches' blood and carrying a gun around, not the other half and _most_ important part of all your questions. "He said that you weren't...safe," you tug your face away from Beca's " _somewhat"_ soothing touch because you need her focusing on the main point, not your _soon to be_ black eye.

And also because it fucking _hurts_.

"Well, I didn't expect anybody to be out this late at night in the middle of a "cursed" forest pass Barden's new and strict curfews, but I guess you exercise junkies are _fucking_ insane and enjoy running around in the middle of the night, which brings along Tommy here into the story as he witnessed me going _Resident Evil_ on a witch before flipping the fuck out."

Your eyes bulge out of your skull at the new information, wishing that it was anything but _that._ Shit, this is not good, not good whatsoever, because now that Tom knows who Beca really is, there's no way in Hell he won't go crying wolf to the dean and even worse, Gail and Kommissar.

"Like, full on, ' _I'm going to run home and cry to my mom while sucking my thumb'_ flipping the _fuck_ out," Obviously missing the widening to your eyes and how your expression mostly gets taken up by panic, Beca continues on her bitter rambles about Tom.

If Tom knows who Beca is-if he _really_ knows who Beca is, then it's only a matter of time before the word gets back to Gail that you and undercover _**witch**_ _hunter_ are not only making out behind her back, but also are in cahoots together.

How is Beca totally not freaking out about this!?

"What are we going to do-" Your sentence gets cut off short by two things; a sudden noise in the background sounding a lot like a broken branch from someone-who freaking knows _who-_ stepping on it, and Beca's hand cupping over your opened mouth, silencing the last bit of your question mid sentence.

"We aren't alone."

You want to reply with something sarcastic, but can't with Beca's hand still covering over your mouth. Of course, you two aren't alone; you two just heard a noise come from somewhere around the forest that could either be an animal, or a witch-though a mountain lion sounds a Hell of a lot better than running into one of these witch, _zombie_ things Beca is talking about.

At least then the two of you might have a chance of surviving with the absence of magic in that case.

The two of you hear a guttural groan that is far from sounding human come from the darker end of the forest, but there is still no image to put along with the noise besides blackness. You'd scream if it wasn't for Beca's hand still trapped over your mouth, as if she knew that you'd do something to ruin your cover- which is slightly offensive because you've grown a Hell of a lot more courage than the first day you met the girl.

But chances are if her hand wasn't there, covering your mouth, you'd scream.

When Beca removes her hand from your mouth, it's only to cock the gun back, loading it in the direction of the noise and getting ready to shoot the figure still hidden within the darkness. You stop her though from shooting, grabbing at her wrist cautiously not to startle her now that she has a loaded gun in her hands and could easily pull the trigger-hopefully not _at_ you.

"You can't kill my sisters, Bec," you plea softly in a whisper loud enough for her to hear, though speaking at all is risky. "We...w-we need to help them, not kill them. They're my _family_." Your voice is teetering off into a crack, emotions running high now that you're put into this situation. It was bad enough killing Gretchen; she was someone not that close to you, but she was still a Bella. She still had the silver charm in the shape of the letter "B" around her neck.

She was still you _sister_.

"Chloe, they're dangerous." Beca tries to reason and you're actually shocked to see that she isn't raising her voice at you, or is irritated that you're interfering with her hunting. "I understand the whole sister code, being a Bella is for life and they'll be there for you until the day you die, but this... _monster,_ who is seconds away from ripping our heads off isn't a Bella anymore." The comment crushes your heart in more ways than one, however, you know Beca is right. It just stings to hear the truth out loud and realize what needs to be done. "She's dead, she's dangerous, and she couldn't give a _flying fuck_ about this Bellas' code."

A response from you doesn't even form because what could you even say to this? Beca has already proven her words correct and you don't want to be the reason why the two of you could get hurt and possibly _die_ because of a sister bond that doesn't mean jack shit right now. Instead, you ease your grip off of Beca's wrist, allowing her to aim her weapon back in the direction where the sound came from, but what the two of you aren't prepared for is the reroute of the mysterious figure and how Beca is unprepared for her target to charge from a different spot in the forest, charging in like a bull, horns drawn out right from behind where she is most vulnerable.

You scream for Beca to look out when you see the image first and _thank God_ for your girlfriend's cat like reflexes to shoot in the same direction where the witch is charging from, but ends up missing when the form levitates a broom out from the ground before throwing herself on top, and flying directly towards the two of you. Beca yanks you down just in time to miss the collision and the pain in your head from earlier is back and better than ever when you connect the side of your head with a stone on the ground as you fall.

Beca is about to ask if you're okay, concern laces within those dark blue orbs, but by an unknown force she gets tossed away from you on the other side of the forest. She hits the ground violently, emitting a painful grunt when her back makes contact on what you can assume several other stones, taking that your head has already taken a gnarly hit.

Twigs, branches, leaves and now stones circle in a tornado form around the spot in the forest where you and Beca are trapped, and it's hard to pick out a clear image as to what exactly is going on right now. You're also sure that the rock your head came in contact with almost knocked you out because there is a foggy film covering your vision and you think you might puke from the intense spinning going on in your head.

So you close your eyes, hoping the spinning will stop, but they don't.

And in fact, they get _worse_.

Beneath the static buzzing going on in your eardrums, there's a fire of shots along with flashes going on above you through all the debris flying around and can hear the piercing cackles from the witch flying high above the trees and at a ridiculously fast speed, making it impossible for Beca to get a good aim on the target. Your vision still happens to be blurry and you fill trapped with permanent vertigo, but as you try to stand, the clearer it gets and the more you can make out the flying object in the sky as Beca desperately tries to get a shot.

" _ **God-fucking dammit**_!" The frustration is evident in Beca's tone as she runs out of bullets in her shotgun, all of them missing the one object she's been trying to hit, but don't worry, your girlfriend always seems to come prepared to these things because soon she yanks out a smaller gun from the back of her jeans, but is a gun full of ammo. " _ **Go to Hell, you son of a bitch!**_ "

Once the pain subsides enough for you to think straight, you remember that you happen to be carrying protection, as well, since Beca gave you one of her's from the wide variety collection she has back at the cabin and _demanded_ for you to carry it at all times just in case. Taking a look at the scene; the flying witch causing a hurricane in the forest, Beca's struggle to get a clear shot from all the debris cutting up her face and getting into her eyes, this is definitely a " _just in case_ " situation.

Lifting up the back of your hoodie to reach behind and tug out the Sig Sauer P210 Legend Target 9mm that Beca gifted you with not too long ago, you take your own shot after all the steps to get in position; the proper footing, the easy breathing to bring your heart rate down, the relaxed grip around the handle and after all these helpful steps, you are lucky enough to hit somewhere on the witch's body, sending her falling from the height she was at into the ground feet away from you.

The forest and all it's flying debris slams into the ground all at once when the witch collides into the dirt with a vicious " _slam_ ," practically shaking the ground you and Beca are standing on. You blink a few hundred times to make sure you actually shot the witch all while Beca does the honors, using her own safety mechanism to drop kick the witch's face with the heel of her foot.

"Holy shit," you mumble in shock after actually hitting the target from so high up (definitely a lot farther away than the fruit Beca placed for you during your guys training days), but also because you now have a good view who the witch is. "That's Alice," you comment to Beca after studying the facial structures of the witch who hardly looks the same without her incredibly good looks, flawless skin, shiny, perfect hair now replaced with a mask of _death_.

It brings humor seeing the one person from the Bellas'; the same girl who hazed the living _Hell_ out of you, Aubrey, and the rest of the pledgees before claiming you as a Bella when you were a freshman, the same girl who you, for once, _hated_ with a burning passion after she'd continuously eat away your self esteem, start rumors that were complete lies, and was just _a raging bitch_ overall _,_ for lack of a better word, now look identical to her fucked up personality.

Guess karma's a bitch, huh Alice?

"I know she's your sister, Chloe, but we are in danger," Beca rushes out during the time Alice is writhing on the ground in pain from where you shot her in the shoulder, obviously missing the humorous glint in your eyes when watching such an ugly creature wail in pain from something you've done. "We have to kill her because it's not only us who's in danger, it's all of Barden."

You're about to tell Beca that it's you who couldn't care less about what happens next to this _bitch_ that ruined your first year as a Bella, but you're cut off from doing so by another voice in the forest who makes herself present from behind as the witch starts to stand, emitting a monstrous cackle of a noise and is seconds away from charging.

A sound of a large gun loads from the distance behind; a gun very powerful just by the reload but your eyes are focused on problem number one who is now foaming at the mouth with rage.

"Don't _fucking_ mind if I do."

Before you can turn around to see where and from whom the voice is coming from-though you already have a hunch who it could by the hidden anger lacing the voice- the head of Alice gets blown to pieces as she charges for you guys, sending her headless body straight into the ground with that black gunk covering the area around her body.

And then there is silence.

It takes a few seconds to gather everything that just happened; both you and Beca are pretty much sharing the same amount of shock, especially when you turn your heads to see Aubrey and Stacie standing smug and guilty as ever, with Aubrey holding one of Beca's more heftier size of shot guns with smoke spilling from the end of the barrel, informing you guys _she_ was the one behind the kill shot.

Pride is the next emotion you feel swelling inside your chest when you realize it was your best friend who just saved your life- and in the most badass, Hansel and Gretel type of way that deserves _at least_ an action figure after a stunt like that. Plus, the catchphrase was so _spot on_ and out of nowhere.

" _God_ , I really hated that bitch," Aubrey snarls as she descends the gun back to face the ground, a hint of red glinting in her eyes that is more than a little entertaining to see now that you best friend just killed her first witch.

And definitely a _memorable_ first kill.

She didn't even puke or faint at all...that's progress and the only person here to thank for the endless shooting lessons is your badass-but incredibly tough- girlfriend, who seems to be radiating with the same amount of pride when she finds out who is behind the kill.

"I think I'm in love with you," Stacie breathes out airy, no hints of joking heard in her comment and it makes both you and Beca share a relieved chuckle that you guys are safe-that _everyone_ is safe.

Apparently, Aubrey isn't the only one equipped with new weapons because, Stacie, and the new, twin blades she has gripped in both hands gets shoved back into the cases hooked behind her back and with her newly free hands, she tugs at Aubrey's waist, reeling her in for an aggressive, firey kiss when their lips smash together that instantly causes your jaw to hang slack.

And once again, you and Beca get thrown a knuckle ball at the end of the seventh inning, shocking you half to death.

" _Whoa_ ," Beca snorts in surprise; you share the same level of shock-though you can't help but think what better moment to have your first kiss than after you just blew a witch's head off to save your friends. "Did not see that one coming."

And neither did you, but all you have to say is the kiss is _long_ overdue.

You shush Beca while searching for her hand on the ground, wanting to the two of them to enjoy their moment without any interruptions. Plus, you feel mutually ecstatic for your friend, knowing just how much she _fancied_ Stacie, but didn't have the lady balls to do something about her feelings. It's almost too cute to even handle right now, which is why you cover your mouth to muffle all the " _awes_ " as you watch the two get lost in the kiss and soak in their obvious, mutual feelings they have for each other, all driven by pure adrenaline.

"Wow, they're really going at it." And apparently Aubrey and Stacie _really_ get lost in the kiss when both you and Beca witness the equal exchange in tongues that should be a scene kept more in private, but you feel Beca shudder as Stacie's hands roam to places on Aubrey's body that shouldn't be touched in public, and you, not even for a second, lose the warmness spreading throughout your chest.

Sensing the two lovebirds are going to be busy for a while and not wanting to lose her dinner over the amount of kissing, Beca tears her eyes away and directs them to you instead, a different sparkle to her eyes that wasn't there before. "You have a _wicked_ aim, babe." She flicks at the gun still gripped in your left hand that you didn't even notice till now and since you guys are, for the most part, _safe_ , you flip the safety on and slip it into place behind your back. "Someone taught you well."

Your insides inflate at the compliment and you start to feel the blood raise to your cheeks, blushing a foreign thing to you, but something that has been occurring more often now that you have Beca in your life. "I just remembered everything you taught me and just said _fuck it."_ Which is completely true. In the moment, you didn't have time to think, or dwell on your form. You had a second to pull the trigger and you did it in _half_ that time. "Alice wasn't even there; it was just me and you, on the hood of your car, shooting bullets at the moon."

Beca reaches her hand to cup the side of your face, and you instantly allow your cheek to rest in her palm, melting at the way her thumb feathers lines against your jaw. "I think you could hit it." Butterflies swarm your stomach all at once with the way Beca's looking at you, her eyes glowing the brightest of colors despite the forest being a blackout. There's cuts on her face from the debris that hit her, and stuck in her hair is more dead branches and leaves, yet she has never looked more _beautiful_. "I never got the chance to say this earlier, but I sure as Hell thought it, but you look pretty fucking sexy shooting a gun."

"The same could be said about you, Mitchell," you battle back, smirk growing larger to match Beca's and if that ain't the biggest understatement in the books, you don't know what is. The simplest thing could be considered criminally sexy if it's done by Beca, you hastily conclude. "Though I don't feel all that sexy with the blackeye I'm about to be sporting tomorrow morning, no thanks to Tom and his rock hard skull." You send a death glare at Tom who is still laying face down in the dirt, not moving a muscle and almost looks as if he isn't breathing.

But he is, thank God.

"But seriously, I don't know which head to talk to," Beca teases as her other thumb reaches up to gently brush across the already forming bump just under your eyebrow. It stings like a bitch; you're surprised that the impact from Tom's head crashing into your's didn't split the area open, but you're grateful that it didn't because most likely that would mean stitches.

And needles are definitely a no go for you, so avoiding them at all cost is your main priority.

"How is your head, by the way? I know you hit it pretty hard-even maybe knocked a few brain cells out. " Beca moves her hand from your eyebrow to the side of your head where new pain arises from the gentle touch.

You push aside the fluttering feeling of Beca's sympathetic, genuinely worried tone of voice when asking if you're okay, but chuckle at the last bit, knowing that's _such_ a Beca comment. Other than a slight headache, it's not too bad-okay, no, that's a lie. Your head is _killing_ you, but you're alive and not dead, so you can't really complain. "I'll be okay-even though I'm surprised I haven't forgotten my name with how hard I fell on that rock."

"We will get ice on it when we get you back to the cabin," Beca assures with a promising smile, hand moving to the back of your neck after examining your head without actually touching the tender spot because you know a bump is already growing. Back at the cabin also means that there's a slight chance of spending the night-which is _long_ over due, so just the possibility riles you up. "You didn't forget how to kiss, did you?"

"Well, I sure hope not. Someone once told me I'm a _great_ kisser," you hint when Beca's whole facial features change into a mischievous mask you're way too familiar with. "Though I wouldn't mind learning again, starting all over." Beca's moving closer to your face, so you instantly feel the pull to do the same. "Refreshing my memory with a _great_...teacher."

You hear a growl sneak pass from Beca's mouth before she murmurs, "I think I can make that happen," and tries to close the little bit of distance separating you two from kissing, but the closer you get to her, the stronger of the stench she's wearing radiates to your senses, so as you try not to gag from the smell, you also raise your hand up to stop her from coming any closer.

" _Okay_ , you know I'd want nothing more than to make out with you, but that black stuff _reeks_ , so I need you to take a shower, _then_ we can kiss as long as you want."

You push at your girlfriend's chest to create some much-needed space and Beca throws her head back with a loud laugh; a laugh almost strong enough for you to kiss her anyways despite the repulsive smell she has radiating off her clothes. It's not every day you turn down a chance to kiss Beca, especially with your burning desire to kiss her every second of every day.

You don't have many weaknesses, but Beca's lips are hands down your greatest of them all.

And her face.

And everything else about her.

What can you say? She's just so damn _kissable_.

"Then let's go, shall we?" She offers a hand that you immediately take to help you stand to your feet, because without the help, the task would be a challenge.

Your head is still somewhat foggy and is definitely still stinging like a bitch, which screams the need for a handful of ibuprofen before your brain _explodes_. You don't know why, but your face and head have been the most targeted throughout the adventures you find yourself with Beca as of lately.

If you aren't more careful, a coma or definitely a concussion has your name written all over it.

Happily to intrude, Beca breaks up the rather _heated_ makeout session featuring your best friend and her current crush at the moment by shooting her gun off around them, thankfully not hitting either of them, but totally still giving them each a heart attack by the unexpected noise and gives her a good laugh by their frightened faces.

You wish she did it in a more _respectful_ way-perhaps, tapping them on the shoulder, nicely, and explaining the situation instead of blowing a few unnecessary bullets at a nearby tree that could've easily ricocheted and ended up hitting someone. But it's your girlfriend who you're talking about and once Beca has a gun in her hand, anything she does with it is up in the air.

How people outside of the forest are immune to hearing all the shooting is something way beyond you, but you guess it's a good thing because it would be Beca on the chopping block if gotten caught.

Beca then explains to the group that Tom's lifeless presence is an issue that needs to be taken care of before you guys leave the forest. She walks over to him and keeping up with her gentle actions, she flips the boy over to his back; his face a mixture of brown and black from the dirt and there's a twin bump forming at the top of his head, similar to the one growing under your eyebrow, no thanks to him colliding with your face.

And actually, now that you're thinking about it, _Beca_ , isn't the innocent one here, either, and is totally someone who is about to buy you the makeup to cover up your inevitable black eye you while wake up to tomorrow morning.

"Hey, buddy!" Beca kind of yells this to Tom, who is still laying on the ground unconscious and doesn't look like he's about to wake up any time soon. Her next tactic is to slap him a few times on the cheek; a few slaps that even yourself can feel the secondhand sting. "Tommy boy, wake up." She throws in a few snaps over his face in-between her semi harsh slaps, all of which you think are pointless, but also, you don't have a plan B, either, so you let Beca do her thing and enjoy the scene from behind. "If you don't wake up I swear I'm going to kill you."

"You sure you didn't kill him already, B?" Stacie, the comedian that she is at heart, decides to comment from where her and Aubrey are enjoying the scene, tangled up in each other like a newlywed couple. They have matching grins on their face while watching Beca struggle to wake the boy up, but they quickly disappear at Beca's threat to shoot them if they don't " _zip it,_ " and you know for a fact that testing Beca's patience is a death wish waiting to happen.

So, they shut up and you thank God that they're able to.

Eventually after smacking Tom around a few more times, his eyes slowly flutter open and he's in a calm state unlike before when you _literally_ ran into him, which is nice because Beca wouldn't have a problem knocking him out again if he were to freak.

His calm, dazed out phase only lasts for a while until seconds later once his vision focuses on Beca; the same person covered head to toe in witches' blood, armed with weapons and someone who he was running away from, _first of all_. Needless to say, he freaks the **fuck** out once he puts two and two together and scrambles up from the ground in point _zero_ seconds, ready to book it out of the forest in the same direction he was running in before he broke your face.

And the screaming this time around is just _unnecessary_. You'd really appreciate it if he would just shut up because you already have a raging migraine and his girly little cries for help isn't helping you get rid of it. If he doesn't stop soon, you'll be the one blowing darts at his neck.

Mutually, Beca's patience is running thin when you see it in her facial structures; the clench in her jaw so tight you think she might crack her teeth and every vein possibly is popping around her neck and forehead. "Don't shoot him, Beca Mitchell," you warn immediately when you feel the twitch of her hand moving to grip the base of her gun, as if you're the one reading her mind now. She gives you a nasty scowl like you just told her the worse thing on the face of this earth, but you try not to show any form of pride when she listens, dropping her weapon on the ground seconds later.

"Um, he's kind of getting away!" Aubrey is near a panic attack and she kind of has the right to be because when you look over to where Tom is hobbling away, he's a lot farther than expected.

Which really isn't good because out of all four of you (though you haven't seen Beca's speed yet) out running the jockey boy seems highly unlikely-even though he's the _quarterback_.

You never seen anybody run as unathletic on a football field other than Tom Brady, but here comes Tom.

"Fine, I won't shoot him." Beca holds up her hands to show you that she is now weaponless, but something about her forming smirk tells you she has other plans-other plans that could either be really bad, or…. really _freaking_ bad. "But I'll do this."

You don't even have the chance to ask what Beca meant by what " _this_ " could mean before Tom and his hobbling form freeze mid step and he's being thrown forcefully into one of the trees in the opposite direction closer to the group, leaving him to wail and groan on the ground in pain.

Baffled at how this happened when _no one_ besides Tom even moved a muscle, you have no one else here to blame other than Beca, who has that smug little grin of hers highlighted on her face before she's moving to check out Tom. Stacie, Aubrey and you all share the shame, startled face as to what just happened, but all don't understand how it _could_ happen.

Explanation is what you're waiting for. Explanation of _how_ Beca was able to create an invisible force strong enough to throw Tom like a rag doll on the opposite end of the forest with only using her mind. This is an assumption, but due to Beca not even making flinch and how you know for a fact Stacie, Aubrey and even yourself wouldn't be able to perform something like this, your assumption might just be right.

Also the fact that Beca is a _witch_.

After the initial first stage of paralysis washes through you, your feet move to follow the same footsteps over to where Beca is kneeling down in front of Tom's aching form, amusement oozing from every pore on her body. She tilts his chin up to look her in the eyes when you kneel down next to her, her gaze unbreakable and slightly worrisome.

" _Here's what you're going to do Tommy."_

You snicker at the nickname, but not for long until Beca's voice pulls you into some sort of trance without even looking at you. She isn't yelling; it's soothing, more soothing than normal and the sound is all around mesmerizing- something you've never heard before.

" _You're going to run your runaholic ass back to your frat house, joke around with your brothers, maybe have a beer and forget this night even happened."_

Everything makes sense now as to why Beca's stare into Tom's eyes is so strong and how he is frozen in place, not daring to break the eye contact. You've only ever seen this in movies and never actually saw Beca use it in real life, but even just witnessing the effect it has on Tom makes you realize how powerful this girl's compulsion is.

" _You will never_ _ **speak**_ _of this again, nor will you even remember my name._ _Understood?"_

Quickly, Tom responds back to this by nodding his head and it seems to be enough for Beca to allow the intense stare down to break. She orders Tom to leave the forest; he almost looks like a zombie, disoriented when he stands up and looks around at you, Aubrey and Stacie. Eventually he does leave and just like Beca ordered he to, he obeys by jogging at an exercising speed down the direction where you came from without another word.

"Okay, not to ruin the moment, but that was fucking _freaky_." Stacie breaks the silence and is the first to talk, astonishment dripping from her words. "What the hell was that, Beca?!"

It's clear Stacie and Aubrey are rookies when it comes to Beca's abilities; it's shown in their faces how stunned they are. Your concern revolves more around the _moving a human form with her mind_ rather than the compulsion, because you already knew of this little secret power of Beca's. However, the first and most surprising power you did _not_.

"Oh shit," Beca gasps dramatically, grabbing her chest when she stands up. "You guys didn't know I was a witch?"

You want to giggle at the sarcasm and how Aubrey looks like she seconds away from losing her dinner, but you don't. Instead, you send her a glare that lets her know this isn't the time to mess around and you want answers.

"Telekinetic," is Beca's only one worded response, which doesn't clear up a lot and sensing the confusion around the group, she continues on explaining. "Another gift my mom passed down in the genes; I don't use it often because it's fucking painful and draining. My mom was able to train her mind and worked it out like a muscle, making it _dangerously_ strong, but I haven't. However, I can push myself to that extreme if necessary."

"Do all these other witches have abilities like you?" Aubrey is the next to ask and almost faints when she hears Beca's response.

"Sure do-some might even be stronger than me."

"No way," you rightfully disagree. "That's hard to believe-have you _seen_ yourself shoot a gun? What about handle a butterfly knife?" you ask incredulously, loving the way Beca inflates at the compliments. "And now you can _move_ things with your _mind_?!" You honestly have no other words to explain how flabbergasted you are by everything that has happened tonight revolving around Beca. Except, one thing comes to mind that turns you into a little kid again before asking, "can you do it again?" sheepishly and hopeful.

You don't get an answer from Beca, but you do get an unexpected push into Beca's arms that startles you from the jolt, causing you to lose your balance and she catches you last second. Your breathing is heavy and you're gripping onto Beca's shoulders for dear life, unsure of what just happened, but Beca's dark chuckles inform you of everything.

"Oh my God, that's _terrifying_!" It really was; the jolt you felt throughout your entire body out of nowhere with no one around to cause it was equally startling as it was thrilling. You could only imagine how Tom felt being thrown across the forest. "I stand my case; Gail and Kommissar don't know the force they're reckoning with."

Beca kisses your adrenaline away in between laughs and it's so freaking cliche how your leg springs up when your guys' lips meet and you wrap your arms around Beca's shoulders, getting lost in the kiss and forgetting all about that horrible smell radiating off Beca's clothes. Aubrey coughs dramatically to break up the kiss, even though her and Stacie were caught in the same position a little while ago and you didn't interrupt them.

But she has a point that you guys should leave the perimeter before anything else happens, so you guys do.

And hopefully Tom will keep his mouth shut and all this will just be a fluke.

A fluke that won't happen again.

* * *

It's not too surprising that your paranoia only increases the farther you get away from Barden now with Tom walking freely around campus, doing whatever it is that he may be doing at this time of night. Hopefully not marching up to the Bellas' house, demanding to talk to Gail about the little encounter he had in the forest involving you, Beca, her gun and a now _dead_ witch.

You are aware Beca used a compulsion spell to have Tom forget about everything that recently happened to him; you _visibly_ saw her perform the spell and saw his confused reaction afterwards, but the thought of something going wrong gives you an unsettling feeling that sits in your stomach the entire drive back to the cabin, even when Beca assures you not to worry about it.

Over thinking has always been one of your flaws that you're not too proud of. Overthinking school work that you recently turned in, or a test where you're unsure if you answered this answer correctly, or if you even put your _name_ on the darn test. Overthinking text messages you send off that you would've rather kept to yourself when you don't immediately get a reply.

No matter what it is, or how serious it may be, the amount of effort you put into thinking about the outcomes is seriously unhealthy.

Especially because you already feel like your brain is going to explode-and constantly thinking about Tom doing this, or Tom doing that is not making the pain any better.

What _does_ make it feel loads better is the ibuprofen Beca shoves into your hand not even a foot into the door and how she massages your neck while you drink a cup of tea that she warms up for you the moment you guys make it to the cabin. Witch hunter Beca is nice, for sure, but Doctor Beca is hands down your favorite-and you aren't just being biased to say this because her hands are _magical_ when it comes to rubbing out knots-much like herself- but because it's the truth that not only does her hands work great for making amazing songs, but also she could have a future being a personal masseuse.

And by personal, you totally mean _yours_.

She informs you that since it's already super late, staying here with her would be a good option to consider and, _okay_ , you don't have to twist your arm to get you to stay the night with Beca and basically had your answer at the mention of "super late," but reply back nonchalant and _cool_ even though you want to scream. This is a moment you've been waiting for-for what feels like _decades_. Going to sleep in her arms and waking up in the same position feeling refreshed and all around _amazing_.

You almost entirely forget about the whole Tom situation when Beca announces she is going to rinse off due to the fact you're bouncing off the walls with excitement on the inside while on the outside, you're calm and collected. It's not until Beca is gone showering and you have the time to yourself that your brain starts to overthink everything once again, leaving you picking at your skin with worry about possibilities of what happens next.

"Are you sure Tom is going to be okay?" You ask for what feels like the millionth time tonight, but you can never be too sure, especially if the consequences involve a dangerous witch who may or may not figure out what you and your girlfriend are up to.

Beca has her back turned to you as she fishes through her drawer for something to wear after her shower to get rid of that nauseating witch smell, but you can still feel the rolling of her eyes at your question she has been giving shorter and shorter responses to every time you ask. " _Yes_. He'll be fine," she assures, tired and drained from everything that has happened in the past couple hours and tosses her black t-shirt up over her head without so much of a warning.

And, okay, that's one way to shut you up.

You feel the stretch to your eyes as you're unable to prevent them from falling down Beca's frame and gawk at the ripples of the freshman's stomach every time she flinches. There's a sudden stuffiness to the air flooding around Beca's room in her cabin, making it a challenge to breathe without gasping, and your mouth all of a sudden feels drier than the Sahara desert when Beca unhooks the last bit of clothing connected to her body, hiding all the good stuff and the last bit of clothing that allowed you to have some control over your sanity.

"Just like all those other poor tool bags six feet under, they aren't in much trouble until the night of the blood moon."

Momentarily, you forget about everything you and Beca were previously talking about now that your girlfriend is completely _shirtless_ , her back muscles flexing in every direction under the dim lighting of the room as she throws over her head the top to her black bikini before asking you to tie the top for her. You also forget how to communicate properly, as well as work your feet the right way because it takes a Hell of a lot longer for you to get to point A from point B when Beca asks for the favor.

But eventually, you gain your coordination back and your ability to think properly.

Not that Beca is a sculpted _goddess_ and a piece of artwork that you and your two hands gets the honors of touching whenever you please.

Upon making it to Beca, now being at an arm's reach of so much skin that your brain is starting to melt from how fast it is short circuiting, you order Beca to hold up her damp hair for you to be able to tie her top without snagging a piece, only to get a whiff of the heavenly smell of strawberries, or some exotic fruit flavor that nearly causes you to pass out during the process.

You take a step back to admire the view; the blinding paleness that seems to sparkle under any form of light, the black ink scattered across her lower back and shoulder blade, the taut muscles and scars also scattered along Beca's back near her right rib cage.

Everything is just too much to process right now; the main issue revolving around how the _Hell_ is your girlfriend so _goddamn_ **sexy**?

"You need to ease up, babe." Beca turns around and you know for a fact she catches you gawking at her body in the least subtle way, but chooses not to comment on it. There is a twitch poking at the corners of her mouth, instead, once you've gained enough strength to tear your eyes away from Beca's toned body and lift them back up to a more appropriate level. "Tonight has been Hell, I get that, but we need some time to relax before shit gets crazy. And I have a hot tub that is calling your name."

Swimming sounds like the _last_ possible thing you want to be doing right now and that says a lot because you _love_ to swim. Your mother basically called you a fish growing up because no matter what, she'd always find you messing around in some form of water; the bathtub, the sink, out in the backyard under the sprinklers, or splashing around in the lake that your family was fortunate enough to have.

But something about swimming after killing a witch doesn't seem _relaxing_.

"The heat will feel good on your neck, loosen you up a bit." Beca rubs at your tight muscles and just the touch adds some relief to the throbbing in your head. You allow your eyes to fall shut, enjoying the warmth from Beca's skin and the soft motions she's providing to the tightness at the back of your neck.

You know you're unable to resist the offer, especially when Beca is touching you like she is-which is such a dirty trick- but you agree to the hot tub, wanting anything to take the ache out of your head and _not_ the fact that you get to admire Beca in a bikini all night long.

But who are you kidding.

The sight alone is just _too_ good not to say yes.

Sensing your answer already and missing the smug grin on her face with your eyes being shut, "I have one you could wear, by the way." It's when she removes her hand from your aching neck that you open your eyes to find her digging through her drawers again and you really hope there's more of _that_ tonight because whether you're in pain or not, a massage is always needed.

Changing into Beca's spare, navy blue bikini that _luckily_ fits you and grabbing two towels for you and Beca, she leads you out to the backyard where apparently she has a whole new perimeter of scenery that you have yet to see, along with a fancy, built in hot tub with colorful LED lights sitting on the back porch that you really want to smack her for not introducing you the two of you earlier.

Outside where it's not the warmest it has been, but you can thank autumn for coming in strong with her wind chill. Stacie and Aubrey are already submerged in water with two beers placed in the cup holders that came with the design of the hot tub, sitting way closer to each other than they were this morning, that's for sure, and giggling about whatever it was that they were talking about before yours and Beca's presence is noticed.

"Took you lovebirds long enough!"

You laugh when Stacie's announcement gets the middle finger up in return and take extra time noticing the arm being swung around Aubrey's shoulders and how the blonde immediately clings to Stacie's long torso like a koala on a tree. You raise an impressed brow that's only noticed by Aubrey, who mouths a, "girl talk later," and _damn right girl talk later,_ you think to yourself.

She has lots of explaining to do that involves the tall drink of water casually hanging off to her side and who she has been inseparable from.

You and Beca take turns stepping into the pool after discarding the robes Beca picked out for you two and you don't waste any second before practically sitting on your girlfriend's lap as she cracks open a beer for both you and her to drink, the warmth of the tub followed by the powerful jets immediately easing your tensed up muscles.

Guess you can admit that the heat is helping the ache in your head, tremendously.

And you have to admit the view is nice, too.

"Cheers." Beca's raises her Corona up towards the middle of the group with you following right behind the gesture with a beer of your own. "To Aubrey's first kill," she says almost proudly, like she just sent her kid off to college or something equally as memorable, clinking the rim of her beer against the rest.

" _Jesus_ , how morbid does that sound?" Aubrey snickers with a tint of red to her cheeks, but happily lifts her beer from the side to meet yours and Beca's before Stacie lifts her's as well. All of you clink the tips of their glasses before taking a fairly large gulp of the ice cold liquid until the burn in your chest prevents you guys from swallowing anymore.

Setting her beer off to the side, "sounds pretty badass to me," Beca quickly counters as she wraps her arm around your back, giving her whole left side open for grabs. You happily wrap your limbs around her stomach under the bubbles, leaning your head into the crook of her neck and finding thi to be a comfortable position. A smile can be sensed at the action, which only brings up a smile of your own when Beca resumes her motions at the lower end of your neck, helping to release the tension by massaging where it hurts.

"Also really fuckin' _sexy_." It was only a matter of time before one of Stacie's crass comments makes an appearance in the group, along with extra hands movements that fluster Aubrey beyond belief.

"So are you two like...a _thing…_ now?" Beca asks suspiciously as she eyes the new couple, or whatever they claim they are, but by the looks of it from where you're sitting, they look awfully comfy to be considered just " _friends_."

Aubrey fluffs her answer more than what's necessary, informing you and Beca that they're just going wherever the stream takes them-which is just a load of _bologna_. Especially with Stacie kissing up the side of Aubrey's neck to her ear, definitely whispering private stuff that only should be kept between them. Their progression had no warnings whatsoever; one second they were arguing about certain chemical reactions and economics, then next thing they were swapping spit in the middle of the forest.

Really, it took everyone off guard, you included, but now as you _really_ look, you can just _tell_.

 _Smh_ , wherever the stream takes them _my ass._ They're so a couple, or at least going to " _bang_ ," in the words of your very classy and very mature girlfriend when she whispers this into your ear while you two watch Stacie and Aubrey conversate about something completely innocent.

But also not that innocent because they have that _look_ in their eyes; a look that screames a month of pent up sexual tension that finally caught up with them.

The night ends nicely, though it didn't start that way. You get to hang with your best friends, drink beer, laugh about what happened once you've calmed down a bit and are able to relax your tight muscles under the heat and powerful jets Beca had kept a secret for so long, but now that you know about her super fancy hot tub, no way are you going a day without getting in-probably won't see anybody, if you're being _completely_ honest.

But anyways, it's nice to relax for a bit, forget about all the crazy shit that's going on around Barden and hang out with a bunch of really cool chicks who you are lucky enough to call your friends.

And your girlfriend, which is still, like, **insane** because Beca treats you _so_ good, but that's another long, _very_ long story.

All of you guys talk about the most random stuff; Stacie and Aubrey's plan once all of this blows over involving boring, complicated school stuff, Beca's crazy stories when she lived in Los Angeles, her crazy witch hunting stories and even talks a little bit about her mom, and how she'd always get in so much trouble for not following the rules during her own training days. It warms your heart to get little pieces of Beca warming up to the group, how she's able to talk about the things in her life that mean the most to her and may even bring her pain.

"She would've been _proud_...I guess...that I kinda made friends here at Barden." There's a shake to her voice as she avoids any form of eye contact within the group, looking down into the water where her eyes stay glued and it let's you know this time the memory of her mom hit a soft spot.

You reach for her hand, squeezing it under the water to let her know that you're here for her, that you don't plan on letting go until you know she's okay and she squeezes her hand back, appreciating the gesture and it's the best award in the books, you think.

"I was never really good at being friends with girls- _anybody_ , as a matter of fact."

"Now that's hard to believe because you really scream physical contact, human interaction and ' _someone_ , _please talk to me,"_ Aubrey is quick with her response and you're about to snap something back because you know how touchy of a subject it is for Beca and can only imagine how hard it is for her to come out and admit. The added sarcasm, though, pulls out a laugh from Beca instead of a slap to the face and you're relieved to see that Aubrey- whether she meant to or not- somehow lightened the mood.

"Anyways," Beca falls back onto the topic once the group shares a good laugh and you and Stacie share the same, tearjerker smiles that Beca's words pull at your heartstrings. "She would've really enjoyed all of you guys." And you try not to cry or anything-which is asking **a lot** \- because Beca _totally_ lingers her stare at you longer than she did around the group, but you already feel the sting in your eyes so you have to look away before the waterworks come pouring down your face.

You know it's hard for her; she's lived a caved in life with no one to talk to. To express her true emotions and how she felt for a long time, and now, without any help or push, she is now gradually talking about these things on her own. And you, truthfully, couldn't be more proud of her for opening up.

If you hadn't already thought this the first day you met her, you _now_ definitely know she's the strongest person you have ever encountered and no one can tell you otherwise.

You often wonder what Beca's mom was like. If she and Beca shared same physical appearance, or if they had the same eye color and infamous smirk Beca hits you with more times than not. You wonder if she shared the same dark, sometimes _hurtful_ humor that Beca has, or was that something Beca just _naturally_ picked up, because from what you experience with Dr. Mitchell is that they're _polar opposites_ in personalities.

Whatever it is, you can't help but think that Beca's mom was _one of a kind_.

Just like her daughter.

Boy, do you wish you could've meet her at least _once_.

After a while of just talking and by the time Aubrey and Stacie finish their beers, they announce that they're going to head to bed once several yawns are shared between the both of them. Beca mutters a comment to you under her breath along the lines of, " _they are so going to bang and if so, those bitches better wash my sheets,_ " and you cover your mouth with your hand, but instead, snort unattractively in effort not to laugh when telling the two goodnight.

When they're both out of sight and somewhere in the cabin, you feel a wave of comfort when you pull yourself in closer to Beca's embrace. She doesn't hesitate when wrapping her other arm around your side, layering another sense of protection as you two stare off into the bright, star filled sky without a cloud in sight, surrounded by complete darkness in comfortable silence.

This lasts for a while; you following Beca's soft breathing patterns and feeling content at the scene with her hand rubbing against your side. It's not until you feel Beca's thumb tapping anxiously on your bare shoulder where her arm is wrapped behind when you pull yourself away from her body, sending her a puzzled stare as to what's bugging her, but by the nervous gnaw to her bottom lip and how her fingers and feet are still resuming to tap underneath the water, you think you know what's going on.

You've seen this reaction before.

"Stressed?" You ask softly, grabbing her hand under water to prevent the tapping from happening any longer. "Feel free to touch my boobs whenever you like." you puff out your chest with a little wiggle, earning a loud laugh from Beca sitting next to you when she doesn't have the strength to resist glancing down at exactly what's up for grabs.

But she sobers up pretty quickly, and you do the same, realizing this situation is more on the serious side than expected.

Beca only shakes her head, looking almost ashamed that she is basically _tweaking_ _out_ right now, to say the least. She looks uncomfortable to be in her own skin and even watching her twitch around makes you feel the same.

"Really could go for a cigarette right now," she admits in a hushed tone.

It's been awhile since Beca has been acquainted with one of those death sticks, which you're extremely proud of her for, but there has been _several_ times where she almost cracked due to being on them for so long and having that burning crave. It makes sense because you googled the symptoms to be cautious of with cigarette withdrawal because your girlfriend smoked like a chimney, if you're being honest, so it's obvious there's tingling in the hands and feet which is causing her to have difficulty sitting still.

Luckily for her, however, you know the simple trick to get her mind off of literally _everything_.

Reaching over to take a quick swig of your beer before placing back into the built in cup holders on the border of the hot tub, you kick your closest leg over Beca's thighs, now straddling the girl and receiving the _biggest_ smirk in history when doing so, as if Beca knows exactly what your plan is to distract her.

"You know what, now that I think about it, I don't really remember how to kiss," you start off innocently, wrapping her hands around Beca's neck when hers snake around the back of your thighs, reeling you in closer to where your fronts are touching. Beca nods her head, listening and making sure to sound sympathetic even though her killer smirk says otherwise.

"Oh really now?" Beca says way more amused than anything, waiting for you to answer with her trademark smirk not daring to leave her face. She's instigating you to make a move, so you're more than happy to feed off of it.

You simply nod your head, keeping your innocent front up. "You wanna, like, make out and refresh my memory?" Shoulders shrug casually before you kiss everywhere around Beca's face _besides_ where you really want to kiss her.

And you don't get too far doing this before she's chasing your lips until she finally loses her strength sitting still and catches them before you can retreat, immediately snagging your bottom lip between her teeth and showing you just how bad she wants a cigarette by how she dominates your mouth. She tastes like Corona-even still has a chill from the beer to her mouth- and the taste of coconut from her chapstick when you drag your tongue against hers; two of the least compatible combinations, but two that surprisingly taste _delicious_.

Much to your dismay, Beca removes her mouth from yours and you think that maybe she's had enough. You, on the contrary, could _never_ have enough of Beca's kisses, even if you kissed the girl for the rest of your life, so ending a rather _intimate_ moment between you two in under a minute breaks you in more ways than one.

However, when you watch Beca fiddle around with the LED settings to the hot tub, changing the glowing lights in the water from a series of bright greens, blues and yellows to a dark red hue that surrounds the two of you before explaining, "the lights were bothering me and now you can see the stars better," she says while looking up towards the sky.

You smile like a little kid discovering something extraordinary because it's true; the stars look ten times brighter with a darker color and the lack of light the hot tub gave, which is beautiful to see as you look up and try to count them all at once. You get to about five when Beca starts to kiss from the dip of your neck, up your throat and under your jaw where you lose count when she starts to suck on the skin that covers your rapid pulse.

You savor the feeling of Beca's lips on your neck and attempt to untangle the knot forming in your stomach by easy breathing that quickly turns into labored pants for air, but out of everyone you've ever been with, Beca knows _just_ how to work your body to get what she wants. The amount of time it takes for you to crack-to pull your head back down to let Beca's lips that happen to already be open for you is nonexistent and you quickly find yourself back into the same position you left off with.

Mid kiss as your rapid breathing matches Beca's and the kiss becomes more forceful and aggressive, but _never_ loses its slothful speed, you notice Beca's fingers that are gripping at your waist have stopped tapping and you feel that her lips are no longer moving in a strenuous way. A smile breaks through at these observations that you can't keep back and Beca quickly matches it, somehow thanking you for the help.

Or simply just reading your mind at how incredibly proud you are of her that she's able to withstand her cravings.

You, at any second of any day, would happily do the honors of being Beca's distraction whenever she wants to smoke, especially if she kisses you like she currently is.

* * *

"Holy... _shit._ "

You already know what Stacie is gawking at in pure, utter shock- maybe even envy- and she doesn't need to say anything else before your hand is shooting up to cover your neck and the visible bruises glowing across the skin as you walk under the spotlight in Beca's kitchen to make some coffee for the house.

Not even a "good morning, Chloe. How was your night?" is exchanged, which means a lot and perhaps the bruises are a lot _worse_ than you intended on them being. You wouldn't know because you just went to the bathroom, peed, washed your hands half awake and walked into the kitchen without really inspecting yourself before leaving.

And you _really_ feel like a science project experiment because Stacie _won't_ stop looking at you, as if she has never seen a hickey before, _smh_.

It's also weird you don't really want to cover up the bruises, though. As if they're some sort of prize, each and every one of them-well, the _visible_ ones, that is. You don't know; Beca worked hard, right? The least you could do is flaunt off her work that had her going at it for majority of the night into the early morning. Plus, you're exhausted from the lack of sleep you got last night and the fact that you ran into another witch that tried to kill you.

So really, Stacie, _give me a break._

"It looks like you've been strangled," Stacie compares as her shock morphs into amusement, even a hint of pride glowing on her face when her teasing, megawatt smile makes an appearance. "And I'm assuming you guys _didn't_ have sex because your neck is now _screaming_ all the pent up sexual frustration." She walks up to you from behind, sneaking a poke unannounced that causes you to jump and spill some of the ground coffee into the sink. Then she gasps once she has a closer, better look. " _Jesus_ , is she a goddamn vampire?!"

You breathe a tired sigh, taking a break from preparing the coffee and twist around to face Stacie who is smiling at you like the Cheshire cat. She's also not really looking you in the eye, _persee_ , and instead is starting down at your neck in awe, stealing a few more pokes to the bruises and asking if they hurt.

"We didn't have sex," you announce bummed out-though last night your anxiety was blowing through the roof and you never felt more relieved when Beca held you to sleep, played with your hair until your breathing evened out instead.

Mind you, that is _after_ she got done devouring your neck.

Stacie listens carefully, showing that she's fully interested on how your neck got covered in hickeys, yet you still woke up in morning a _virgin_ -and not like the little hickeys, either, but the **dark** , painful looking hickies that no one receives without taking their clothes off.

Running a hand through your hair before enlightening Stacie on the run down of last night, "Here's what happened."

 _ **Approximately five hours ago**_

" _Okay, no," Beca says once you emerge out of the bathroom when you finish brushing your teeth and getting ready for bed. After fooling around for quite some time in the hot tub, the two of you started to get pruney, then started sweating from the heat and mutually decided that Beca's bed was calling your names._

 _Plus, you were more than a little eager to spend the night with Beca for the first time ever and maybe you were also really stickin' excited so it didn't take much convincing for you to get you out of Beca's super fancy hot tub and practically sprint for her bedroom._

 _At Beca's immediate disapprovement once you exited her bathroom,"what's wrong?" you ask innocent, confused as to what Beca is staring at, but might have an idea what she could be talking about._

 _Okay, joking._

 _You_ _ **totally**_ _know what has her basically speaking in tongue as she examines you head to toe._

" _You're sleeping in_ _ **that**_ _?"_

 _You look down towards your current sleepwear again, shrugging your shoulders when you do so. "This is what I normally sleep in."_

" _No you don't," Beca protests quick and with a shake to her head in disbelief and you have to bite the inside of your cheeks not to laugh because you so totally did this on purpose._

 _When choosing what to sleep in, Beca had many options in either rock band t-shirts, flannels of all colors, all kinds of sweats and dark colored tank tops. The decision was easy once you realized you initially wore shorts underneath your sweats._

 _Very_ _ **short**_ _shorts._

 _And you wanted to give your girlfriend a little something-something to gawk at before bed._

 _Tease her a little bit, you know, the usual._

" _What happened to your baggy t-shirts with a giant cat wearing earmuffs on the front? And your flannel pajama pants?" Beca asks skeptically while you're enjoying her hungry stare a little too much._

" _I don't sleep in those," you deny with a huff, but already know Beca has full on, visible proof of you wearing an outfit like that because of that one time she snuck into your room and you, being completely unprepared, had no time to change into something more sexy and less embarrassing. "Plus, this is our first sleepover, so how do you know that I don't normally sleep like this?"_

" _Because who willingly goes to sleep in a tight tank top, tiny softie shorts and_ _ **no**_ _bra, unless they're trying to torture their girlfriend all night?"_

 _Although Beca's face is priceless right now and you can basically feel the heat flushing to her cheeks, the temperature in this cabin is_ _ **negative**_ _ten degrees and definitely not meant for anyone wearing summer clothing, especially without a bra._

 _If anyone gets your point._

 _ **Two**_ _..._ _ **very**_ _...visible points… to be exact that have caught Beca's immediate attention._

 _But also, going to sleep in a winter sweater and sweats seemed like the least attractive thing you could've possibly done._

 _And Beca looks like she has no complaints with the sight._

" _Seriously, who sleeps in that?"_

" _I do," you reply playfully with a wiggle to your butt covered by those so-called red softie shorts before jumping into the empty space on Beca's bed and digging yourself underneath the covers until your bare legs are covered by the warmth of Beca's flannel sheets. "And as far as the no bra part, free the boobies, babe! They should never be trapped!"_

 _Beca doesn't for a second believe anything you're saying and keeps her stare blank as she watches you get situated in her bed-which happens to be the most comfy, not that you're too surprised because it's such a big bed for such a small person. Also, Beca isn't the only guilty party here; she's wearing just as much clothes-again, not that you're complaining- but her outfit, as well, is torture for you to be in the same room with._

 _With her stupid tank top showing even more cleavage than yours, you think, and how it fails to cover up her lower back, giving a perfect view of her back dimples above a pair of stupid grey sweats that are a little too big and shows off her womb and hip bones._

 _Now that sight is torture._

 _Brutal, excruciating torture._

 _You side glance Beca once comfortable and pull out the hair tie keeping your hair in a loose ponytail, then purposely dragging her fingernails through your loose curls when they fail over your shoulders. She's still staring at you with her same, deadpan facial expression, as if she knows exactly what you're doing, but in your defense, Beca looks hot twenty four seven._

 _The least you can do is torture her for the little time you have with her before bed._

 _You fake a yawn, even though sleep is the last thing on your mind and fluff your pillow like they do in movies. Why? You have absolutely no idea nor do you see the point of it. "Goodnight, Baby." You give one more fake yawn and peck Beca on the lips before you reach over to the bedside lamp closest to you, switch the light off and sigh contently when you lay down._

 _Not even seconds after turning the light you feel Beca's side of the bed dipping in closer to your side; you can feel her breath at the back of your neck. It doesn't surprise you when Beca has other plans for the early morning and doesn't even allow you a second to lay down before she's climbing on top of you in a swift motion, silencing your giggles from the action by smashing her lips onto yours and replacing them with breathless moans._

 _Your hands get snagged in the process and are thrown up above your head to land on the pillow; Beca's grip fastened tightly around your wrists to prevent any movement, not even a budge is something you can break free from. It's exhilarating, to say the least, being trapped hopelessly underneath someone and it really makes you wonder if you just found a hidden kink you enjoy probably a little too much._

 _Not that you blame yourself because it's really freaking hot._

" _You're trouble," Beca mumbles across your lips that quickly morph into a guilty smirk, knowing you've been everything but innocent the last hour you've spent with Beca. From the hot tub, to her bedroom, you've wanted one thing and both times, you've gotten it. That thing being Beca's oh so intoxicating and very well trained lips pressed hungrily on yours._

 _You pull away from Beca with a coy grin, her lamp light on her side of the bed the only thing allowing you to see the newly darken shade to her eye color, pupils fully dilated."So they tell me," you breathe out softly, the kiss still affecting how you sound, but you could really care less because Beca's voice has a similar hitchy scratch to it._

" _You dressed like this on purpose, huh?" Her smugness drips from the corners of her mouth at the question and you can't help but give her an evil smile._

 _Of course you did-though you don't automatically admit this out loud to her, not wanting to give her that satisfaction of knowing. You don't think there is anything in the world that you enjoy more than receiving those lustful looks in Beca's eyes, her temptation to pounce on you at any second and her impressive amount of strength in her body to prevent these both from happening._

 _If there was one thing Stacie taught you during your guys' little "sex education" course, it was that teasing is always a useful option._

 _And testing this theory out tonight, you would have to agree._

" _Maybe I did, maybe I didn't." You clench your teeth not to flinch at the way one of Beca's hands sneak under your tank top, the chill to her touch making you flinch, but she only snickers at the jump. You hold your breath when she scratches her fingernails around your navel, attempting with all your might not to make any embarrassing noises and to keep playing it cool, but you think she may already know how close you are to having a panic attack when she moves her fingers farther...north._

 _It doesn't last very long until you realize that you're currently braless (maybe a mistake on your part, but whatever) and Beca, being one who often does things on a limb makes a beeline for your chest with her hand caught underneath your top, grasping the skin firmly enough to squeeze out an audible gasp from you in return. Eyes roll to the back of your skull as Beca continues to touch you at all the right spots, going from aggressive to soft and adding a rhythmic grind to her lower half that happens to be straddling one of your upper legs._

 _Things move from fast, to hyper speed from there on out; you want to do everything in your willpower to keep you from making anymore noises, so you yank your hands out from the grasp held above your head to pull Beca back down by the neck to meet your lips, her mouth now the one being filled with breathless pants and moans while you block out the possibility of Beca being able to feel the thunderous pounding of your heartbeat against your rib cage where her hand is currently roaming._

 _And is also the main culprit for your body reacting the way it is._

 _As for someone who has hit a few doubles in her baseball career while playing the field with Beca, this-Beca's hand up your shirt-_ _ **shouldn't**_ _be driving you completely wild, but it sure is. It's driving you so wild that you have to clench the flannel bed sheets besides you to the point of your hands breaking and focus the hardest you've ever had to focus before on kissing Beca back when she takes control of your mouth once again in a hurried, almost desperate motion._

 _But everything is great; Beca is great and the way she moves her mouth is_ _ **criminally**_ _fantastic._

 _And where her hand is twisting around rather sensitive parts of your body is driving you absolutely wild._

 _But everything is_ _ **fine**_ _._

 _She kisses you hard and you kiss her back even harder. It's the usual, really. The same old song and dance that you often find yourself participating in with Beca throughout the day and seconds spent together, so it shouldn't surprise you that your body temperature reaches an uncomfortable level of heat when Beca removes her lips from your swollen ones, targeting the skin beneath your ear instead._

" _Ti takAya krasIvaya." Beca speaking normal English does something to your insides in an unimaginable way, so when you hear her drop a line in a different language,_ _Russian, you assume (HA you're learning in that class!)_ _your whole body begins to quake and how it really affects you is heard in the way your breathing whimpers off. "You want to stop?" Beca asks with caution to her voice and there's a look of concern to her eyes when she lifts her head back up to meet yours._

 _You don't reply because of a lot of factors; one being the newly formed knot in your throat you desperately try to swallow down before it suffocates you and two, being her hand still cupping your chest, the pads of her fingers twisting your already hardened nipple, making any form of communication thrown right out the window by being the most distracting-yet very pleasing- feeling to speak right now._

 _The truth is you don't want to stop. Yeah, maybe your heart is seconds away from leaping straight out of your chest when Beca's hand caressing the skin under your shirt gets closer and closer to the waistband of your shorts and you can still feel the tremble in your legs, even while laying down when Beca's finger tips graze that little patch of peach fuzz directly under your belly button._

 _Yeah, you might hyperventilate with how fast you're breathing and maybe you're starting to overthink all the tips Stacie gave you, which then throws you into a downward spiral with growing anxiety that might end up paralyzing you faster than you can even take Beca's shirt off._

 _So, yes, there's a lot of indicators that maybe you guys should stop; your brain is screaming at you to say something before it goes farther, but what your heart really wants is Beca._ _ **All**_ _of Beca, right here, right now, and the heart wants what it wants._

 _Just like Selena Gomez sang._

 _Remembering the Beca asked you a question as she waits patiently for your answer but never once pulls out her hand from underneath your shirt, you shake your head no, not wanting to stop any of this. Give you a couple more minutes of rough kissing and inappropriate touching and your answer may change._

" _Really? Cause that's not what your head says," Beca comments with a half smirk. "And your heart rate." This time she removes her hand from your shirt, but you think she might still be able to hear your thunderous heartbeats without touching your skin to feel the pounding. "I know I told you I don't read your thoughts, but they're the loudest thing in the room right now, Red."_

" _I'm s-sure," you freaking hate yourself for stuttering your reply and how you feel as if you have to talk over the rapid throbs in your throat, proving Beca's observations embarrassingly correct._

 _You rightfully admit that the first time Beca and you fell into a very heated moment, you weren't prepared and deathly terrified. You had zero idea what you're doing, so most of your actions were caused by you just "winging" it, but you feel like you're ready now._

 _Or so you thought, in the moment._

 _Beca continues kissing your neck and along your jaw, but not like before. Now, she's soft with her lips, feathering them across your skin to the point where you don't even feel them there. You know that whatever moment started before has officially ended, the mood teetering off because of your stupid inner dialogue that Beca, being clairvoyant and all, always freaking reads. It's not completely over, however, because when Beca scrapes her teeth down your neck to a familiar spot, her kisses shift to more of a suction and your breathing starts to pick up again._

 _Suddenly, the room goes black; the lamp on her side shutting off, but not in a blown light bulb type of way, but more so a,"I'm Beca and I'm telekinetic" type of way and you cock an eyebrow up at her even with the room now pitch black, expecting some type of explanation now that you aren't getting laid and have the time to ask more in depth.._

" _Yeah," She starts with a nervous chuckle before continuing on, lamely, "so, like before, that's a...thing that I, like, do or whatever."_

" _Clearly," you answer back sarcastically, matching your own laughs with Beca's and everything falls back into place, your heartbeat, your breathing pattern, and the ability to communicate like a functional human being. "So you can brew potions, spell cast, you're clairvoyant, and now telekinetic?" You list off curiously. "didn't know I was dating Carrie."_

" _Who?"_

" _Oh my God." You'd facepalm yourself at Beca's confusion and lack of movie education if wasn't for the fact your hands have somehow lifted up the back of Beca's tank top and are absentmindedly tracing circles around the small of her back. "Someone would think that you'd love horror movies since your life is basically one worthy of multiple Oscars."_

" _Eh, I have better things I'd rather be doing," Beca mumbles seductively into the crook of your neck, each word punctuated with a soft kiss and you gradually let your eyes fall shut._

" _You sure are full of surprises," you admit breathless, toes curling at the dark chuckle Beca vibrates against your throat._

" _Oh you haven't seen anything yet," she then threatens in her gut wrenching raspy tone of hers and sucks any forming words right out of your throat when she connects her lips to your skin._

" _Wait.." your pleas cause Beca to lift her lips off your skin and even in the darkness, you can see the look of concern laced in her eyes. You quickly reassure her that she has nothing to be worried about and your question, "how do you like your eggs?" is the only thing on your mind as of right now._

 _There's nothing but silence for a while until Beca chuckles, breaking the silence with the sweet noises of her adorable laugh that you could listen to on repeat. "You're joking."_

 _You shake your head to inform Beca that you're everything but joking right now and is patiently waiting for an answer so you can surprise her with a yummy morning breakfast once tomorrow comes around._

 _Or, like, in a few hours_ _ **today**_ _._

" _Scrambled, you dork. Pinch of pepper to go with it."_

" _Awesome," You gush once you get your answer and slam your lips back onto Beca's to continue right where the two of you left off._

 _ **Back to present time…**_

"Okay, so you guys _were_ about to have sex, she read your mind, all the nervous thoughts flooding around it and basically left you out to _dry_?" Stacie puts all the pieces together after the story and you nod your head to confirm her theory. "So instead, she wanted to suck all the blood out of your neck to make up for the lack of sex going on early this morning?"

Sadly, it's the truth, but not completely how you wanted the events to happen. Nonetheless was it not enjoyable, however. "I _wanted_ to have sex with her-trust me, the want is starting to become unbearable the longer I'm with her and sharing a bed doesn't exactly help the issue- though it was very lovely to wake up to my hair being played with. But, I get so nervous and she keeps _freaking_ …reading my head and converts those thoughts into me not wanting to go any farther when really I'm just coaching myself through the process and begging myself not to mess up."

"Well tell her not to do that anymore."

You'd smack Stacie in the head with the loaf of bread you're trying to open up if it wasn't for your hunger preventing you from doing so. If you had the option to block out all your thoughts from Beca, you would've done it by now, but, _hello_ , your girlfriend is a witch and you're _not_ a witch, so blocking a witch from reading your mind is a lot harder than it looks, Stacie.

"I wish it was that easy," you mumble out annoyed and also very exhausted.

"You guys need to have some seriously _long_ , intimate moments because it's killing _me_ just being around all of the sexual tension," Stacie says with a snicker as she reaches over and pours the two of you a cup of coffee. "Isn't it your one month Thursday?"

Your body undergoes a different type of reaction; a feeling where your heart triples in size and everywhere under your skin feels warm and tingling. _One month._ You and Beca have officially lasted one month together and you can rightfully admit that being with her has been all around _auhmazing_.

Of course, it's a rollercoaster of a ride; one moment you two are holding hands and listening to music in Beca's car under the stars at night, or fighting about which artist is better and who's _way_ overrated. Then next second, you two are making out in a way that would make a pornstar cringe, but for you, Beca lights a fire in your gut that you've never felt with anybody else before.

And maybe this fire is _killing_ you in the worse way, but it's all worth it.

Even the whole witch deal involving Gail and Kommissar and your Bella sisters trying to take your pure, virgin heart and rule the world deal isn't so bad when you got a super _sexy_ girlfriend fighting by your side to save your sorority and the rest of the world.

Plus, you got to learn how to shoot a gun, which is, like, the coolest thing _ever_.

Your expression does a complete flip at the realization that Stacie is correct as you are mid sip into your coffee and you have _yet_ to pick out anything to give to Beca, or what to do for her once the day comes. "Yes it is! Oh goodness...what should I do? What should _we_ do?!"

Stacie gives you a sympathetic pat on the shoulder, calming you down. "Oh, Chloe. We all know you're a romantic at heart and Beca would be in awe over a nice, juicy steak." You shrug your shoulders in agreement and follow Stacie to the kitchen table with all of the pancake supplies you picked out from Beca's pantry. It's true; one quick way to Beca's heart is a good meal. "Also, step back for a second. Beca speaking Russian sounds _so sexy."_

"Believe me, it is." You snicker with a shake to your head as you crack an egg into the large mixing pot. That's an understatement at its finest.

"I don't know about you, but if someone kisses my neck, my pants are coming off," Stacie adds, no shame with giving you an unwanted visual.

You decide to change the subject, not really wanting to replay the events that happened this morning and how you were _so close_ to finally having sex with Beca, but ended up blowing your chances instead. "What about you and Aubrey?"

Stacie arches a brow up, not understanding your question fully.

"Don't play dumb, Einstein. You and my best friend were getting pretty close last night. What happened there? Did you guys...you know...have sex?" you ask hesitantly, unsure if you're crossing a line by getting straight to the point. You could've sworn that either Stacie or Aubrey would've been walking around the kitchen with a bruised up neck from previous events, not you.

Stacie gasps in offence, grabbing at her chest with a mouthful of the banana nut muffin she is picking at. "Chloe Beale! I am a _lady_." You roll your eyes over a smile, knowing Stacie is so full of shit that her eyes are brown. A girl with her _high_ sex drive and someone as hot as Aubrey doesn't take much to feed the beast. "Plus, Aubrey is just better at hiding them."

Your mouth drops unintentionally at the wink Stacie tosses over her shoulder and how your brain immediately gets flooded with all the possibilities of where these hidden spots Stacie could be referring to are exactly on her body. It doesn't even make you cringe that you're picturing your friends making out right now, probably because you can't get over the fact that it has been _too_ long since Aubrey had a thing with someone.

And as her best friend, you're _way_ too excited for her in this current moment to be processing how you're, without a shame, imagining her in the most sinful ways.

"Don't change the subject, Ginge," Stacie falls back to the previous topic, switching the spotlight back on you. "You and Beca. How have you guys not had sex yet? It's been forever since you were caught masturbat-"

You quickly hush Stacie before she can finish, waving around the unused whisk in the air to prevent her from allowing you to relive that scarring moment that has haunted you ever since. Chances are if Beca ever found out-though you have a feeling your girlfriend would find humor in the story anyways, _way too_ much humor- that you'd die of embarrassment.

"We don't speak of that," you snap sternly despite the forming cheeky smile you can see by the raise in Stacie's ears when she turns her head back around to tug some more chunks out of her muffin. " _Ever_." Stacie raises her hands up in defense, but something tells you that it won't be long before the topic gets brought back up by the devil herself. "And for the sex, you already _know_ why! Something always prevents us from actually having sex."

"My question is how are you not combusting with sexual tension," Stacie asks with full seriousness through a mouthful of muffin and crosses one of her long bare legs over the other. The sudden strength you've had lately is a question you often ask yourself, as well, but all you know is that strength is slowly thinning.

"Trust me, I have no idea how I'm doing it, either," you sigh exasperated, surprised by your own willpower to hold off on jumping Beca's bones whenever you see her. "It's crazy, honestly...what she can do without actually _doing_ anything to me. Whether it's a lingering look, or even that crooked smirk of hers, I feel myself coming undone by the _second_."

A new guest enters the kitchen and it doesn't take long to figure out who it is when two arms wrap around your waist from behind and someone smelling identical to minty mouthwash and vanilla is kissing around your neck in a far more gentle way than how she was earlier this morning, but still having the same effect with the knots forming in your gut.

"Morning, baby. How'd you sleep?"

You think your knees buckle at the new raspiness in Beca's morning voice and how she whispers this into your ear from behind while her fingertips trace patterns at the top of your shorts under the grey hoodie you stole from her closet. It's definitely a new sound you can get use to waking up every morning to, that's for sure.

 _God,_ this woman is going to kill you.

"I'm also so glad you know how to cook delicious breakfast food to wake up to in the morning because I definitely can't cook or bake anything, like, _at all."_ Beca comes out and admits as if you didn't already know this, _Ms. Burnt Grilled Cheese Sandwich_ for a five course meal. "Makes dating you a lot better."

You turn around in Beca's arms after a playful swat to her stomach, pausing the cooking for now and don't waste a second before stealing a proper good morning kiss from the one person who you can blame for a lot of things; one being your lack of energy and sleep, and two, the amount of bruises wrapped around your neck that you happen to be wearing like a scarf.

Plus you kissing her erased that stupid, yet intoxicatingly sexy smirk of hers right off her face.

Beca kisses you long and slow for a while until she picks up something from her senses and takes a few whiffs around the kitchen. "Is that peppermint?" She asks above your gaped lips before she pulls away to scavenge the kitchen. You, still breathless and more than a little disoriented from how Beca just kissed you like you guys didn't just have an audience gradually flutter your eyes open.

See your point?

Beca can do the little things and they still seem to put you in a daze everything single _damn_ time.

Stacie raises her hand up guilty, pointing down to her black coffee mug mid swallow. "Creamer," she informs with a chirp, not commenting on your state but you know damn well she notices the effect Beca has on you. "Want some? It's super good."

"No thanks," Beca chuckles with a shake to her head and you slide her over a cup so she can get her own when you have the functioning to do so. It also makes you feel good inside that you know Beca loves her coffee black, just how she likes everything else. "My mom loved peppermint everything; candy, brownies, cookies, cream, you name it. Ever since she died, the smell of peppermint makes me nauseous," her face falls and jaw tightens.

Stacie's already apologizing profusely before Beca's story is even finished, offering that she can dump the rest of hers down the sink and that she had no idea. You think your heart just broke into a million pieces hearing Beca talk almost like a sad, lonely child and also kind of makes you want to dump the rest of that peppermint creamer Stacie bought at the store right down the drain.

You don't care how freaking _delicious_ it is, your girlfriend is hurting right now and that's all that matters to you.

"No you're fine, Stace," Beca assures, still smiling but you notice it's weaker than her usual. "It's just...hard, you know?"

You don't actually know because you never lost someone really close to you before, but can only imagine how hard it is for her to go through, especially if it is her mother.

"Sorry about your neck, by the way," Beca changes the subject rather quickly to lighten the mood, whispering this low enough so only you can hear. You're thankful for the new breakfast topic because you were seconds away from swearing off all peppermint for the rest of your life if it meant Beca wouldn't be reeled back to memories of her mom. She gets a better look at the bruises wrapped along the front of your neck like a choker necklace, inspecting her hard earned work. "Actually, I'm _not_ sorry at all." Her smirk is back and bigger than ever as she hip checks you away from the coffee maker to steal a cup.

The words hit you home and your body swoons into the counter where you lean your back, mouthing a, " _oh my God"_ to Stacie behind Beca's back, who is biting back a endless amount of comments underneath a teasing grin and keeps them to herself.

"Well I'll be damn," Stacie comments from the table, eyeing the two of you mischievously like she just solved a crime better than Nancy Drew herself. "Looks like you got shorty here good, too."

You're not too sure what Stacie is talking about at first, but as you study Beca a little closer while she is busy fixing her coffee, you note that she, as well, is forming a group of dark, purple bruises around the base of her throat, a lot similar to the ones Stacie pointed out on your neck. You admire your work as best as you can without getting too riled up when you're brought back to early this morning when you gave Beca these hickies and all the sensations come raging in like a wrecking ball while at it.

But you do allow yourself to smirk at the marks, knowing two can play this game.

"You want some eggs?" You decide to ask rather than tease Beca about your guys' matching hickies, knowing the amount of foundation the two of you are going to invest in _combined_ is going to be a pricey trip.

"Know how I like them?" Becs raises her eyebrows up over the coffee mug she tips into her mouth.

You ponder in thought for a second, already knowing the answer but choosing to drag it out. "Sunny side up?"

Beca's laugh is different this time around; it's more rough from her post slumber state, but nonetheless is it not as sexy as her normal, everyday laugh. Maybe even sexier, you think. She shakes her head slowly, reaching out to tug on the hem of your hoodie to pull you in before mumbling a playful, "m'lady," over your lips when she notices the bowl of eggs already scrambled up.

" _Ugh_ , you guys are so gross," Stacie scoffs from the table before she stands up, muttering something about not wanting to be present when you guys start giving each other more hickies, but _definitely_ not getting into each other's pants.

Maybe you'd respond back to this if it wasn't for Beca's lips being so close to yours, but you don't.

And instead just kiss the girl senseless, ignoring everything and anything going on around you.

* * *

Waking up-not in Beca's arms this time-feels like you've only slept for twenty minutes and that's throughout the span of a week, **total**. Your body aches like never before, your attitude is at an all time low and your motivation is basically nonexistent. You _really_ don't want to go to any of your classes today, but because it's Thursday, the day before Friday, you use the last bit of energy you have to slug out of bed, attempt to get ready and put on your dazzling, _Chloe Beale_ grin for the day.

But, _Jesus_ , isn't that a freaking process.

Good news is that Tom isn't acting any different towards you than before the whole, " _I saw Beca blowing off multiple witches' heads and she's definitely a witch hunter,"_ encounter you two had in the forest. Bad news is that the beginning of this week you had a major bruise under your eyebrow that called for using all the makeup you had in your room to make it unnoticeable.

Plus, a lot of foundation was used on your neck due to _someone's_ mouth and her tendency to get carried away.

You gain a little bit more _umph_ to take on the day when you receive a text from Beca while you're getting ready for your class at 8, just like always and also another reason why you're running out of less and less desire to wake up each and every day.

Also, receiving this message lights a spark to your insides when you remember that not only is today the first day of October, but also your's and Beca's blissful, one month anniversary. Wow, how crazy does that sound? It's not your longest relationship you've ever been in-actually, not even close to your longest, but it is by far the **happiest** relationship that you've ever been and that's the God's honest truth.

Beca is just all around _amazing_ ; she's honestly-swear to God, cross your heart, hope to **die,** stick a needle in your eye- the _best_ person you have ever met and you'll keep on reminding people until the day you die.

As it should be because you find pleasure in making people jealous, their envy fuels you in all the right ways. Of course, you haven't experienced all of this yet because of this whole, " _gotta keep our relationship a secret,"_ nonsense, but you can just tell everybody will just want to **be** you because you have a damn amazing partner by your side.

But anyways, back to the text message before you start rambling about how incredibly lucky you are to have Beca in your life.

 **[My Sexy Badass 7:15 AM]: Good Morning, I hope you slept well. Kind of missed you in my bed, though. Check the top of your drawer.**

You cheek like a lovelorn schoolgirl while reading Beca's message; somehow this morning feels _way_ different from any other previous morning, even though it's a daily message you receive from the girl and haven't reacted this way before.

Whatever.

Beca's cute, so it's nothing new.

 _{Chloe Beale 7:16 AM}: Hi, baby! I slept alright...would've been a better night if I was laying in your comfy, flannel sheets ;) and does this mean you snuck into my room again? Without permission, I might add..._

After a pep talk to get yourself out of the comfort your bed provides and endure the unpleasant chill surrounding your room, you obey the orders, rolling over in your mountain of sheets to slug your way out of bed and head over to your drawer. Making it there, your heart inflates at the sight and the heavenly smell of your _favorite_ coffee order from Starbucks during the fall season; a pumpkin spice latte like any basic, college girl with extra whip, nonfat milk.

Sitting under the drink like a cup holder is a clear case holding a CD with the words, " _ **Chloe,**_ _**10/1/17, Happy one month"**_ written neatly with red sharpie in Beca's beautiful, cursive handwriting. " _ **Ps. There's no fucking Toni Basil on here,"**_ is also written at the bottom of the CD, making you chuckle to yourself at Beca's gift.

She's the best, you conclude, and not just because you feel like you're a teenage girl stuck in a 80's love story with someone who mixes you CDs-though it would be cassette tapes back then if that were the case.

But this time, you really know that no one out there comes even close to how wonderful Beca is. Sometimes-actually, _all_ the time you have to pinch yourself and make sure Beca is really _real_ and it's not your head playing some sick joke on you.

Either Beca has some weird telepathy thing going on, or it's just a bizarre connection the two of you have, your cell phone rings on the charger before you have the chance to call Beca up and personally thank her for the gifts and the way your heart feels so incredibly full it might actually explode.

" **To answer your question, yes, I did sneak into your room,"** Beca says once you connect the call, not giving you the chance to say anything else. " **Yes, it took all of my willpower not to stay the night-did you know you snore like a bulldog?"**

You howl a laugh at the insult, knowing Beca is damn well smirking her cute little butt off on the other end of the call. Your smile never fades, however, and it's gotten to the point where it's surprising that a smile the size of a clown's isn't permanent on your face because it seems like that's all you've been doing with your time spent with Beca.

But do you really snore?

 _Oh God,_ did you snore at Beca's? If so, how freaking embarrassing. Why hasn't anyone told you before? Especially your _best friend._

"Sensing that we are still together, celebrating our one month and you haven't left me yet that you like my snoring," You retort playfully, playing with the green stick Starbucks always puts in their hot coffees and a piece of plastic you can't keep your teeth away from.

" **Yikes…this is awkward...that CD totally has all the hit break up songs through the decades."**

"Oh! My mistake!" You go ahead and play along, that same green stick your fingers were flicking around now caught between your front teeth and giving you _a little_ taste of that sweet whipped cream on top. "That means there's definitely a Bonnie Tyler song on there?"

" **Total Eclipse of a Heart?"**

"Yes!" You giggle at Beca's scoffs of disgust on the other line and how she _declares_ there is, in fact, no Bonnie Tyler and will never be Bonnie Tyler on any of the CDs she makes you. Then she proceeds to bash on your music taste, just like always, asking herself why she's dating someone who willingly listens to, ' _Bonnie fucking Tyler.'_ "Well, there at least has to be a _Wham!_ song on there, 'Careless Whisper?' It should be a sin if there isn't, Rebeca."

There's a brief moment of silence, neither you or Beca speaking. " **Maybe** ," she finally answers; you barely hear her confirm this because it's through a mumble, but it makes you laugh either way and you know she's doing the same. " **You know I find it charming that such a loud noise can come from such a little girl."**

"Calm down-I'm not little. Have you looked in the mirror lately?"

" **Shut the hell up,"** Beca and you share a chuckle; the teasing coming natural for you two and it's very enjoyable to start a morning. " **There is some Billy Joel on there, so, like, you're welcome."**

And there _is_ a couple Billy Joel songs Beca mashed together; "Vienna" and "Uptown Girl," which just makes you feel a tickle in your nose and sting to your eyes at the memory of when Beca teased you about being the prime definition of an _uptown girl,_ with your heels, perfect hair, jewelry, and designer purse (even though you're positive you got it from Target).

Along with all the other songs on the CD Beca mixed when you listen to it while getting ready, they all have some significant meaning that brings you right back to the many moments spent with Beca and all the memories brought along with them. The long car drives with you embarrassing Beca by using her hand as a microphone while you scream out the window the lyrics of whatever Def Leppard song she plays, not caring that you tend to mess up the lyrics a lot and people often give you dirty looks when you start singing to them out the window.

You can practically _feel_ the power of her eye rolls when doing this, but not as much as you can feel the way your stomach does flips when she smiles at you because she can't keep on her tough girl front any longer.

Or the more _intimate_ moments of your back being pressed up against the leather of Beca's car, her straddling your thighs as the two of you make out in the middle of some deserted area under the stars and moon to Aerosmith's "I Don't Want to Miss a Thing," or "Crazy" like the world's most rebellious teenagers who crave for a stress reliever.

 _God_ , and let's not talk about the way your body reacts when remembering just how deep and passionate Beca would kiss you those nights.

It's these memories that really get you through the day; all your boring classes, the annoying classmates and the impossible task to stay focused when you have way better things to be thinking about, like Beca, and how you plan on spending this evening with her.

You never thought the day would end and you were pulling out your hair from the scalp by the second during your Russian Lit class, but eventually, the torture ends.

And it's strange how your mood immediately perks right back up at the thought of Beca waiting for you outside in the student parking lot.

Making it there, however, is extremely hard because you run into two people who you wish you could've avoided, especially on a day that holds so much significance to you. Standing in front of the police station on campus is Bill and Sandra Posen, talking to the chief of police about a subject you already know the answer to.

Their _daughter_.

They're crying their eyes out when you are in a close enough distance to catch their faces and you notice the officer desperately trying to calm them both down, but failing miserably as more tears are shed between the two of them. You really don't want to have a conversation with either of them, though you love both of them like they're apart of your own family, but you have no idea what to say, nor how you would react to them.

Admittedly, you want to tell them everything, especially that Aubrey is _alive_ , well and not missing at all like all the "missing" posters are saying that are plastered around Barden. You even want to gush about Beca to Sandra because you talk to her like she's one of your best girlfriends, but in reality, you can't tell them anything that's going on; the Bellas', Gail and Kommissar, Beca, and even Aubrey's whereabouts, which hurts you in more ways than one.

But you have no other choice but to keep all of that a secret if it means saving people's lives.

So you keep walking in the other direction despite the tug on your heartstrings, deciding to take the long route to the parking lot rather than lie to two people who are closest to you.

Your mood takes a bit of a bump after the encounter, even though you didn't _actually_ talk to Aubrey's parents, but still the sight of them so torn up about their daughter whereabouts is going to haunt you for a while, you think. It doesn't make it any better that Aubrey's an only child, so the two of them must be losing their damn minds in sorrow. You can't even imagine how Stacie's parents are taking the news, or even how your own parents would act if you were reported missing.

How the Hell are you going to break the news to Aubrey?

When you see Beca, however, your mood spikes right back up ( _shocker_ ) and you're jogging over to your girlfriend leaning against yet _another_ brand new looking sports car that only adds to her collection of vehicles. You hold off on commenting about it for now and instead, you kiss her like your entire life existence depended on it, which is half true. You spent a whole eight hours without seeing Beca and _call me clingy all you want,_ but you missed her like crazy.

Which is why you kiss her like you haven't kissed her in ages, wrapping one of your legs around Beca's lower back before she uses her hand to hold it in place; a move the two of you have become experts at.

"You look good today," Beca comments and observes your outfit when you've decided that the two of engaged in way more public kissing than necessary and pull away before the two of you get caught by someone. "I like the hat."

You do a little curtsy while tipping your black, teardrop fedora hat you have on that completes your outfit for today; a long sleeve, maroon sweater, a high waisted black skirt and matching black tights above a pair of tan heeled boots. Flannels are great-Beca's are even _better_ and _oh so_ comfy, especially with a pair of ripped up jeans, but you're still Chloe Beale who _loves_ to dress up and just look good.

And again, looking good and dressing up for someone else-Beca- is even freaking _**better.**_

"You look nice, too." You tug at one of the lapels on Beca's leather jacket, smirking mischievously at your grinning girlfriend.

"I'm wearing what I always wear, Red." Beca shoots back with a chuckle and her hands land on either side of your waist, pulling you closer. She's right and you don't think you'll ever see the girl wearing anything but the color black, but she _does_ look nice, like always, and you will continue telling her this every chance you get. "But thanks." "Can we talk about the cherry red, Dodge Challenger you happen to be propped up against orrrr?" You ask suspiciously with a raised but _highly_ intrigued brow hitting your hairline. The car is all around _gorgeous_ , with the shimmering red coat and twin black pinstripes in the middle going from the hood of the car, to the trunk, sitting on four sets of blackout rims.

You might even think it's nicer than Beca's mustang-but don't tell her you said that.

Beca glances over her shoulder, playing it off perfectly as if she had no idea what you were talking about and proceeds to act surprised when she locks eyes on the car. " _Damn_ , when did this get here?" She jumps back with a hand grasping at heart.

"Am I going to have to be that girlfriend who cuts you off from buying all these fancy cars?"

"I didn't _buy_ it," Beca corrects you with that natural smirk of hers. "While you were busy doing boring class stuff this week, Luke and I fixed up this pretty girl." She rubs the side of her new car like she's petting a dog and you can't help but roll your eyes. Child. You're dating a child. "You wanna drive it?"

The last time you drove one of Beca's cars, you almost broke it- **four** times to be exact, so you're a little hesitant to answer this offer, but also you kind of want to drive the thing because it's super _freaking_ nice. Sports cars are usually manual, though, which kind of sucks the fun out of test driving it because manual is way too tech savvy for your slug bug owning hands and inability to multitask.

"It's not a stick, in case you're wondering." Beca's smirk quickly turns evil and you hate that this little bit of information that she _stole_ for inside your head removes any hesitation you had before and you're swiping the keys out from her grip in exchange for a chaste peck on the mouth before you're skipping over to the driver's side, defeated once again by Beca's charm.

At least you get to drive a super sexy car with your super sexy girlfriend on your one month anniversary and honestly, this day couldn't get any better now that you're with Beca.

* * *

"What do you mean you have to go to the city?" You pout with your face drooped and lip jutted, hoping it will be enough cuteness for Beca to stay and not make you endure a couple hours with the house mothers from Hell.

It doesn't work, sadly, as Beca explains that Luke needs to talk to her about certain _friends_ coming to town who could be use at assets to the "team" that apparently she's building. You try not to be offended that Beca leaves it at that with little to none clarification about _who_ exactly Luke is talking about, but **hate** that your stupid, over dramatic brain shoots immediately to thinking that this so-called "friend" happens to be Jade, Beca's ex... _whatever_ she was, but that might be from the shade of green film covering your eyes whenever you think of them two together.

Beca promises that the rest of this afternoon and tonight will be _all_ about you two, no interruptions, no witch talk, no guns, no deaths, no _nothing_. Just the two of you, enjoying a nice dinner- that _apparently_ she has planned for a change and is excited to be cooking for you while getting drunk on a Thursday night watching whatever, " _bullshit shows you want, Red. No complaints on my part, I promise."_

"Can't fall asleep either," you add sternly, knowing damn well Beca would last only a handful of minutes before her eyes started to get heavy and she agrees to it with a laugh, not even arguing that she wouldn't do this.

You send her off with a sweet kiss that lingers longer than usual and a weak wave when she ( _unbelievingly_ ) announces she has to go, already missing the safety of her presence right by your side. Once she's gone, the only thing left is the smoke from the burning tires and the eerie aroma the house you use to call your home surrounds you with. Taking a deep breath while observing the house that seems to sit in the shadows away from all the light it was once under, you enter the house guarded, like you've been doing the past month but never had to before a month ago.

Inside is strangely quiet, more quiet than normal, which starts to give you an uneasy feeling that maybe Beca leaving wasn't such a good idea. Feeling this and not testing your luck by wasting any time, you reach into your purse, fumble around all your pointless objects and curse to yourself when the phone is nowhere inside. You curse to yourself again when you realize that the last place you had it was in Beca's car, connected to the aux cable so you guys could listen to music.

Expecting your phone and receiving just a bunch of crumpled receipts, "shit," you curse to yourself and pull out your empty hand from inside your purse.

With that option not available and no idea when Beca would realize that you left your phone with her, you scan the house again, checking the living room, dining room, and kitchen only to be met with more silence. Usually around this time-though you haven't been present at the house lately- at least _one_ of your twenty sisters that live in the house are home and definitely Gail and Kommissar are, as well, but now it's just you and those two _fucking_ black cats they brought along with them wherever the Hell they came from.

And you'd think this would calm you down a bit, not having any confrontation with your sisters, or running into the house mothers, but honestly, you think the silence is too good to be true.

Something is definitely up.

Your room is your next option now that you're currently _phoneless_ when you remember that even if there was something sketchy going on, your door has a lock on it and a clear, safe route to exit the house through your window, even though lots of climbing and being acrobatic would have to take place. So, deciding that you'd rather be there than standing defensively alone in the middle of the kitchen (though there are lots of knives for protection), you head upstairs, ready to bore yourself to death until Beca comes back for you.

Which, hopefully, isn't _too_ long.

As you're walking down the hallway pass many of your sisters rooms, you notice that the only opened door is your's, which is strange because you could've sworn that you closed it when you left this morning, and usually do every other morning. Something about sharing a house with thirty other witches _screams_ invasion of privacy.

Cautiously, you tiptoe down the rest of the hallway with a huge knot forming in your stomach and your heartbeat pounding in your throat until you make it to your room and see a pastry or something sitting on your drawer. Not thinking much of this, you head to where the dessert is sitting, which now that you're closer you can see that it's a freshly made peppermint bark brownie with a note that happens to be sitting next to it.

Smiling immediately when you see that familiar, fancy looking cursive, you read what's on the note.

 _Didn't want to stop spoiling you just yet. Decided to branch out and bake from scratch. Hope you have a sweet tooth, even though with all the sugar in the world there couldn't be anything sweeter than you._

 _-Beca M._

"Such a dork," you laugh to yourself when reading Beca's note. Even you can't help but admit that what she just said was the cheesiest thing _ever_. Also, something that you could never see Beca saying, not even with a gun pointed to her head, but whatever. Such a goofball. She also must've been the one to sneak into your room sometime during the day while you were at classes and left your door opened...but that doesn't really make any sense because she usually goes through the window.

 _Hmmm_ , you think curiously to yourself, but push those thoughts aside for the time being now that your mouth is watering and you have a yummy brownie sitting in front of you, just waiting to be devoured. You can't wait to see the girl again to give her the one month gift you planned out with the help of Aubrey; a brand new leather jacket with the words "Mitchell" sewed into the chest pocket and smelling of your perfume instead of that _ashy_ smoke smell that lingers in hers.

Ripping apart the brownie and plucking off bits and pieces of candy candy bark to put into your mouth, you sigh contently at the chocolatey taste that floods over your tastebuds, overwhelmingly your senses in the best way possible with a minty aftertaste to finish. Only thing that could make this perfect would be a nice glass of milk to clench your thirst, but, _Jesus_ , did Beca really outdo herself today with the gifts.

First Starbucks, the CD, then the homemade brownies?

Since when does she know how to bake and why haven't you learned about this sooner?

 _Wait a second._

You freeze before sticking the next cube of brownie into your mouth, fear moving it's way through your skin to take over your body when you examine the crumbles of white and red candy on top of the chocolate brown rectangle.

Then your body freezes from fear as you think back a couple days ago, regret hitting you from all corners.

 _ **Flashback…**_

" _No thanks," Beca chuckles with a shake to her head and you slide her over a cup so she can get her own. It also makes you feel good inside that you know Beca loves her coffee black, just how she likes everything else. "My mom loved peppermint everything; candy, brownies, cookies, cream, you name it. Ever since she died the smell of peppermint makes me nauseous." Her face falls and jaw tightens._

 _ **End of Flashback…**_

"Oh my God," You drop the brownie onto the floor at the realization and replace it by covering your gaping mouth, eyes simultaneously stretching wide and pooling with unshed tears. You knew it was too good to be true; the peace and quiet environment that hit you once entering the house when usually it's the exact _opposite_ that hits you in the face.

You think about making yourself throw up when you realize that it wasn't Beca in your room; it wasn't Beca who baked you this brownie that totally isn't edible. It wasn't Beca doing _any_ of this, but you've already eaten almost half of the dessert and already feel your head starting to get fuzzy and your vision starting to slow, the dreadful effects coming a lot soon than anticipated.

And now you don't have a phone to call for help, don't have a car to leave because you left it at school when Beca took you home and you _definitely_ don't have Beca here to protect you from whoever it is that just poisoned you by a goddamn _brownie_ , and honestly, you've never felt more hopeless than you do right now when your body starts to sway uncontrollably from the dizziness as you try to even out your breathing, tears falling automatically.

"Hi!"

If it weren't for the fact that you're stuck in a fishbowl while seeing triple and everything is blurred out in slow motion, you'd jump at the unexpected guest making an appearance in your room without any warning. It's Emily, from what you can roughly put together by the height and megawatt grin standing under the doorway, dressed in an all black gown that you've never seen her wear before.

"Like my note?" Emily asks playfully; a chirp to her voice when she points over towards the note and it churns your stomach to know you were gullible enough to believe it was Beca. "How about my brownie? Too much sugar?" Emily sounds almost genuinely concerned about your opinions, but you know well enough that the whole front was just an act when she curves up one of those sickly fake smiles. "Not enough... _peppermint_?" She spits to you in a tone so uncharacteristic and sinister that it coils everything inside your body, slapping you in the face with nausea.

That, or it's this brownie you just ate with only God knows what was in it.

You try to stumble out of the room; your feet feeling like they weigh a dozen bricks. Where to, exactly? You have no idea, but at least somewhere far away from _Emily_ and this hunch you have in your gut that is warning for you to get the _Hell_ out of there before it's too late.

But you are losing strength by the second and your feet get caught on each other, sending you straight into your drawer that luckily catches your limp before falling completely, but you knock down everything when your arms sprawl across the top.

Emily chuckles at your lack of balance. "Yeah, I wouldn't walk if I were you; Gail loaded that brownie with a lot of stuff that seem pretty... _intense_ ," Emily laughs at her own joke when noticing your lack of coordination. Even brainwashed she was still able to keep her giant, megawatt smile to mask the true evil within and capture anybody gullible enough to fall for her innocence. "Happy one month by the way. Sucks that there won't be anymore to come," her voice starts to become muffled and even has a sinister hint to each word before her eyes flash to a nightly shade of black.

You don't know if it's because you're scared to death about what might happen to you, or that you were foolish enough to believe that everything was going to be okay, but either way you start to cry. Cry because your life is _for real_ now at risk and cry because you weren't strong enough for Beca.

Weren't smart enough, as well.

And thinking about being a disappointment to Beca might just kill you faster than Gail will.

But things soon get very dark, the whole world going black and all the sounds around you starting to go numb from the blood in your ears as you feel your entire body going limp, starting when your knees give out, the last bit of strength you had left to keep you standing now _gone_.

You think you hit your head on the corner of the table, but your aren't too sure, nor do you have time to think about it.

Because then, there is _nothing_.


	14. Chapter 14

**Didn't want you guys to wait months for a new chap, especially after that cliffhanger ;) Plus, the reviews last chap really got me going, so thanks for that! Again, Jade (Elizabeth Gillies) and a few new characters make an appearance.**

 **MERRY KRIMIS TO THOSE WHO CELEBRATE!**

 **(I DO NOT OWN PITCH PERFECT NOR THE SONGS MENTIONED)**

* * *

 **Chapter Fourteen: Raise A Little Hell**

When you wake up, you notice that you are no longer in the Bellas' house, but now stranded, _alone_ , in the middle of a forest, tied up to a beam by something with no way of getting out since your arms are tied behind your back. Your head is also throbbing; a familiar pain that you just can't seem to catch a break from and you assume it's from passing out, or whatever happened when you saw Emily in your room.

Speaking of the girl, where is she, where are you and what the _fuck_ is going to happen?!

Panic starts overwhelming your body when you realize how screwed you are right now and fear quickly follows next when you think of all the possibilities of why you're currently tied up in the middle of Barden's forest and what they plan on doing to you when they come back- _whoever_ that may be.

And it really freaking sucks because Beca has absolutely no idea where you are and that you're in danger, so the chances of her saving you are slim to none.

So there's that.

Giving it an attempt but failing miserably, you try to wiggle your hands free from the rope that happens to be wrapped around your wrists and ankles, hoping that maybe with enough force you'd be able to break it. So you thrash your body for extra force in all directions. Unfortunately, whoever tied you up had a past life in the navy and can tie knots like a goddamn _expert_ , so breaking free anytime soon is just not happening, but ripping off your limbs trying to do so is a high possibility.

Which is fantastic because something tells you-you don't have a lot of time before they come back and finish you off.

"Chloe, darling."

 _Shit._

 _Spoke too soon._

"You can writhe all you want, but that rope isn't going to budge." Even with Gail humorously announcing this and _failing_ , you continue to pull, tug, and yank your limbs in all directions to the point of dislocating them in effort to be released, only to fail in the outcome. You try your best, however, and slowly feel the skin around your wrists disintegrating away, the stinging burn immediate, but you don't care. "My sister and I always had our suspicions about you, but I never actually thought we'd end up being right."

You pause your efforts to escape, seeing that trying for any longer will just drain your energy. Also, you feel more presences making their way to the scene- at least thirty more people, dressed up in all black, largely fitting gowns, pointy, hooded masks that cover their faces and only show their eyes, so you can't really tell who they are circling around you like a pack of lions hunting a deer, but notice the silver "B" around each individual that matches yours and suddenly you know exactly who they are.

And forget about feeling hopeless before.

Right now, the word comes off as an _understatement_.

How did they find out and who the hell told them?

"You can thank your handsome friend Tom of yours for getting you into this position, who is now six feet under. Such a gorgeous man and delicate prize for my sister and I," Gail chuckles to herself.

Well _shit_.

That answers your question.

"Someone would think that facing me for years now, following my _every_ move, Beca wouldn't underestimated my powers."

Your heart sinks into the pit of your stomach at the mention of your girlfriend. _God_ , you hope she's okay.

And if not, it pushes you to try harder to escape, anger now controlling your movements.

But again, the rope doesn't budge.

"Her compulsion spells have _nothing_ on mine. She has _**nothing**_ on me. I am wiser, older, faster and _stronger_ than her. She would be _foolish_ to run against me." Gail punctuates each word with a certain bark to her tone that causes you to jump and all the hair to stick up on your body. You've been wary of Gail ever since the moment you met her, but right now you've never been more terrified of the woman.

And that's answers your second one whether or not it was Tom- even though Beca was sure that he wouldn't remember.

Turns out she was wrong-you both were, and Tom was just Gail's pet to sneak all around Barden.

Gail comes out from behind you, along with Kommissar, who are the only two that aren't wearing those terrifying black hoods, but still matching the others with their black gowns. "I do have to admit you've played a rather good spy underneath my roof, but I get it, I really do."

You don't respond to Gail. What do you even say to this? About going against this whole witchy cult plan to terminate mankind during the blood moon this Halloween. It's not like she's talking about the damn economy at dinner. So, you keep your mouth shut, breathe deeply and let her continue whatever rant she's mustering up, gritting your teeth in rage that you let it get this far.

"Beca's this _alpha_ warrior, just like her mommy. She's this intoxicating, _strong_ , dangerous girl who you felt drawn to... _protected_ by." Gail's smile turning menacing. "But sweetie, every warrior has their weaknesses, hence why her mommy isn't here anymore-"

" _Fuck_.. _you_!" You hiss with rage through a mouthful of spit, cutting off anything else Gail had to say and she seems impressed by the blunt, courageous words that came out of nowhere. Was it the smartest thing to say while being tied up, defenseless, surrounded by a dangerous coven? Probably not, but no one-no matter if they're a witch or not- talks about your girlfriend that way, especially her mother.

Gail chuckles darkly at your harsh words; a reaction you totally didn't expect to see, but she's the only one making noise in the forest.

"What? Do you love her or something?" Kommissar speaks up this time, her eyes slitted with disbelief and a smile twitching at the right corner of her mouth.

You never thought you'd be caught in this situation, having an inner thought battle going on inside your as you think of the right combination of words to respond back with. Of course, you have a _plethora_ amount of feelings towards Beca that are _scary_ overwhelming; you always have, weirdly, but you haven't really thought about _love_.

Yes, your days get better whenever you hear from Beca. Yes, not a minute goes by without you thinking of the girl and it doesn't automatically pull a smile out of you no matter what your mood is. Yes, your heart does aerodynamics whenever Beca touches your body,- inappropriately or not-or kisses you in all different forms that surprises you every time, making it feel like a first all over. Yes, you're the happiest you've ever been with Beca and you don't see that ever being ruined, or at least not for a really _long_ time.

So with that, you think you already know your answer.

But _hate_ that you figured it out during a time like this.

You decide not to answer this question and to stay quiet, neither of them worthy enough to hear your answer anyway because chances are they could care less.

But it doesn't stop you from thinking about your intensely growing feelings for Beca and how you might be falling in love with her if you haven't already.

Kind of sucks, though, that you're going to die without the chance to even tell her how you're feeling.

Tears begin to fall now, mostly because you hate yourself for not telling Beca this sooner. Tell her that you've never felt this way about a person before. You've also lost all the strength in your body, the fight to stay alive starts to fade, as well. What's the point of trying if you know you're doomed either way? Whether you fight or not.

It sucks because that's not what Beca would expect from you; she'd expect at least a good fight, always claiming how _feisty_ you tend to be.

What you're doing now, giving up. She'd be more then disappointed, which is probably the worst feeling your heart has ever experienced and why you start to thrash your body side to side again, hoping to at least go down with a _Hell_ of a good fight.

For Beca.

The one person who always believes you're a lot stronger than you look.

From the side, Kommissar pulls out an old fashioned blade of some sort; it's a shimmering silver, medium sized, and from even a far, the weapon looks _very_ sharp. Your eyes go wide when focusing on the object, now realizing how much danger you truly are in with no possible chance of escaping without being stabbed to death, or _sacrificed_ in your own designated witch spell since a third of the army is here, surrounding you like vultures.

Serious rope burn is evident when you wiggle your wrists some more and receive a burning sensation around the skin, but you push through the pain and continue to do everything in your willpower to break free before you bleed to death, even if you burn through skin, all the way to bone. While you're busy doing this, Gail and Kommissar chant something definitely not in English, causing everyone around you to start levitating off the ground and seeing this is your cue to really **Freak. The. Fuck. Out.**

And get the Hell out of here before any of that satanic nonsense takes place.

"You were never my favorite." Now Gail is back to talking to you, the evil smirk to her features fades away, turning into a ice cold, sharp, and truly terrifying grit to her teeth and jaw. "Something about your _God's_ given looks created by the man himself, the fiery red hair that burns brighter than the sun and those _eyes_." The dark chuckle is back; this time even darker, if possible, and you try to sink into the beam you're tied against, hoping to shield yourself from Gail and everything she could possibly do to you. "My goodness, your eyes are something to _kill_ for."

You think about screaming until you pop a vessel, but even though you have no idea where you're at in the forest. You know that Gail is smart enough to kill you deep within the forest, away from the campus, the city and any form of civilization, so that tactic would be useless and so you continue to cry, knowing your side of the hour glass is slowly running out of sand.

She walks up to you slowly, fingertip dragging against the tip of the knife she's holding before she connects the blade to your throat, startling you away when you flinch at the sharpness, but can only go so far with you being tied up and all. Chants are continued around the circle; all the hooded witches off the ground and Gail locking into you like a radar while her other hand locks your head in place, hand ice cold and nails almost as sharp as the blade being pressed up against your throat when she holds your jaw.

"Guess I'll just to take your heart _and_ your beauty, that way your existence served a purpose," the growl within her voice shoots chills up and down your spine and it's terrifying being so close to death that it leaves you physically numb, unable to move a muscle even with your brain _screaming_ at you to do something- _anything_.

You prepare yourself for the worse, think about all your achievements you've made in your twenty two years of living, your parents and how you tried to be the best daughter you could possibly be. You do wish that you graduated college and passed Russian Lit, got a _real_ adult job in the real adult world and gave them grandkids like they've always wanted. That would've made them the _happiest_.

You think about Aubrey and how you wish her the very best in her future, but you already know she's going to do great because she's just as great a person as she was a best friend. You do wish for her to come out to her parents when this is all over now that she's involved with Stacie-an _extremely_ smart, attractive and very respectful girl that any parent would be lucky enough to have their kid date.

They might not accept it at first, but you know they love Aubrey with all their heart and will eventually come around.

You think about Beca, and how she is _perfect_ even with her flaws. It doesn't matter that she's kind of bitchy and sarcastic and her humor is borderline offensive. It doesn't matter that she's guarded under an iron dome, anti-social, moody ninety nine percent of the time and afraid of any form of commitment-until meeting you, that is. All of this doesn't matter because never _once_ has she treated you like someone who doesn't deserve the world and then some.

 _God_ , you wish you could at least see her face _one_ last time before you get cut up and your blood gets passed around like a handle at a college party for everyone to drink from.

You wish you could kiss her lips just **one** more time.

Wow, you're sure going to miss those treasures.

Gail's about to do the job; you can feel the pressure from the blade at your throat getting stronger and stronger, especially when there is a present sting and you know Gail has broke through skin. You close your eyes when you've had enough of looking at your sisters still floating around you, allowing the pooling tears to fall down your face, ready for Gail to take your life.

And heart.

And beauty.

You're ready for _all_ of the inevitable until something happens that causes Gail to screech out in pain and remove the knife from your neck and drop it to the ground. Your sisters fall to the ground just as a strong gust of wind sends the forest's trees and all the debris around in a whirlwind, making it impossible to see anything around you anymore. You do catch Gail-now in full witch transformation and looking truly _terrifying_ \- ripping out a familiar looking butterfly knife from her shoulder with another screech when the silver from the knife starts to burn her flesh as she grabs it.

Gunshots follow, but it's way too windy and _way_ too chaotic for you to catch where and who they're coming from around the forest. You have your hunch, though, and it's this feeling that elates you to a whole other level as to who you think it may be, giving you the hope you've been desperate for.

Out of nowhere, the ground around you turns to fire while Gail and Kommissar are cackling, screeching sinister noises into the air and dodging the bullets being shot without breaking a sweat and no effort whatsoever. Where the fire came from is still a mystery, but you are taking your best guess and assume it's from one of the thirty witches surrounding you. The extreme heat from the flame is immediate to your skin, eyes aren't able to stay open without them burning, either, and you once again feel _screwed_ due to the fact that you're still tied up and the fire is only getting bigger.

And only getting _closer_.

"Shit shit shit shit!" you curse out loud in full panic mode, wiggling your very hardest to break free, only to get the same result prior to the fire, but this time adrenaline is on your side, helping you through it because the thought of getting barbecued is a _nightmare_.

Struggling only happens for a moment until another set of hands come up behind you, cutting the rope in a swift motion and you don't even have to look over your shoulder to see who it is. The rope at your ankles gets sliced off next and you're finally free from the beam and being burnt at the stake, but your legs give out almost instantly once they touch the ground.

But Beca is there to catch you even without turning around to see her face, but knowing her touch like the back of your hand.

Beca is there to save you.

Beca is actually _**here**_.

"It's...you," So you have to say it out loud, just to make sure it's not your head playing some sick joke on you, or that you're already dead and in heaven. "H-how are you-"

"Red, I need you to try and walk with me to the car!" Beca orders to you over all the noise, but you can't really understand her, can't even read her lips to try and guess what she said because you're so out of it, but she's actually _here_ with you. So that's fantastic. The tug in a certain direction is your only indicator that Beca is guiding you somewhere, hopefully a place out of all this nonsense and somewhere _safe_.

Like her cabin, in her bed with those velvet, cotton, red and black flannel sheets that smell like coconut from her shampoo and just Beca's normal, heavenly scent.

 _God_ , you never missed a bed so much in your _entire_ life.

You focus on walking as best as you can while she shoots around you at the hooded witches running towards you guys and you try not to think about the fact that your sisters, the witches being shot at, are the ones under the hoods and the thought of them getting killed churns your stomach. Beca, however, _does_ shoot at places where it would definitely prevent them from charging at you guys, but not enough to actually kill them, which is refreshing.

A Van Morrison song, "Crazy Love" plays in your head, muting out all the shooting, and whatever other noises that are floating around you as you stare dreamy at your knight in shining armor while she fights off all the bloodthirsty witches who are out for your heart. One hand is locked tightly around your waist for support as the other one expertly handles her gun, shooting at all the threats in your way. It's _maniacal_ and you definitely shouldn't be as calm as you are right now, nor should you be flashing a dopey grin at your badass, witch hunter girlfriend who just so happened to save your life.

But you can't seem to find the strength to look away.

If you weren't already in love with her before, you sure as Hell are now because all you can think to yourself is, " _my hero."_

 _Ugh,_ you're so sappy and nauseating sometimes.

But Beca is so courageous and **sexy** that you can't even blame yourself for acting this way.

As you're too busy admiring Beca from the side, the next thing that happens unexpectedly is you being thrown into the passenger side of the same car you drove in earlier- the cherry red Dodge Challenger-before Beca performs an action movie slide move across the hood of the car, opening the driver's side and yanking the car into drive, but as she sets her foot on the gas, ready to take off, Gail (out of freaking _nowhere_ ) drops straight down onto the hood, denting the entire front and probably giving both you and Beca a heart attack from the cracks in the windshield.

" _ **You think you can ruin our plans?! To destroy everything my sister and I have been working on for so long now, Ms. Mitchell?!"**_ Gail is screaming this through a monstrous growl, her face resembling something out of a nightmare now that she is in full witch transformation.

"I've done it once and I'm sure as Hell not afraid to do it again!" Beca snaps back with invisible foam dripping it the corners of her mouth, her grips around the steering wheel strong enough to break through the rubber. Not that you have much say in this situation, but you want to yell at Beca to hit the gas, knowing just how dangerous Gail is when she's in full on witch transformation. Having a conversation about who can beat who is not only middle school _ridiculous_ , but extremely suicidal.

Gail releases a bone chilling cackle out into the embers sparking off from the flames, her cracked, stoney white skin glowing with an orange color and the picture of her glowing blue eyes staring you both down is an image that will forever haunt your dreams. " _ **First, I'm going to kill your girlfriend. Rip her heart out and bathe in her virgin blood! Then, I'm going to kill you, just like I killed you traitor of a mother when she turned her back on the coven!"**_ The last part comes out as a monstrous growl, along with piercing cackles that vibrates the entire forest, ringing your eardrums with excruciating pain that you can't get rid of. You cup your ears to see if that helps with the noise, but it doesn't.

Not even the slightest.

Through the pain, you look to check on Beca because the car has yet to move with Gail threatening the two of you from the outside, but as you weakly glance up with your hands clawing at your ears to stop the ringing, there's blood coming out from every hole on Beca's face. Her nose, her ears, her eyes are bloodshot red, pupils are **fully** dilated and you for a second want to cry because you think that it's Gail doing this to Beca.

Turns out it's the exact opposite when all the witches including Gail; the debris, the leaves, the rocks, the fire, _everything,_ gets blown away from the car with a boisterous bass of an explosion, leaving the perimeter around you guys wide open and witch free.

Snapping out of whatever trance Beca just fell into when her eyes, for the most part-except for the blood dripping out from the corners onto her nose, return back to normal, she takes a moment to regroup, takes a few deep breaths and cracks her neck side to side before slamming her foot on the gas and speeding her way out of the forest with you in absolute _awe_.

What the _fuck_ was that?!

Only one of the hooded witches is able to trace you guys down as Beca maneuvers the car through the forest, swerving in and out of trees until hitting a unknown dirt road where she accelerates even _faster_ on. Figuring Beca is too busy driving to notice the witch flying high above you guys on a broom, you snag out one of her handheld guns from the glovebox, roll down the passenger window and take your aim on the object before you take a shot. Angling yourself with the wind outside of the window, you're lucky enough to hit somewhere on the broom to cause the witch to lose control and fall straight down into the ground, leaving her and a cloud of dust behind.

You exhale a breath you didn't even realize you were holding in when you notice that, for now, you guys are safe and no longer tied up to a beam about ready to be killed, all thanks to Beca who was able to save you. It makes you wonder how she knew that you were in trouble when the last time you talked to her she said she was going out to the city and would be there for a couple hours.

Needless to say, however, you're a very, **very** lucky girl that she was able to save you despite your curiosity on how she knew.

"I think we are clear," you announce breathless to Beca while scanning all around the outside for any witches that may be following you guys. You switch the safety on before shoving it back into the glovebox, desperately attempting to get a grip on yourself, but failing due to the high levels of adrenaline coursing through your veins.

"Shit, Chloe, you're bleeding," Beca curses as she inspects the gash on on your throat every now and then when she switches her focus off the road. You kind of forgot about the cut until you lift your hand to check for yourself, only to yank it back from the sting with a new coat of blood covering your fingers. Beca's expression morphs from worried to angry in point two seconds at the new maroon color layering your fingertips. " **Shit** , shit, _shit_ , _fucking_ _Hell_! _**Goddammit**_!"

You're startled by the increase of Beca's voice and how she's slamming her fists into the steering wheel, unsure why she's only communicating in swear words and how she hasn't broken a hand yet from how hard she is punching. She is bound to break it, eventually, or at the very least, the dashboard.

Either way, something is breaking and sorry to break it to everyone, but you're no doctor, nor a mechanic who can fix something car related if it were to break.

You want to reach out and take her hand to prevent her from hitting anymore things before she _does_ break her hand, but she's too upset, too angry to get her to calm down and your head is basically occupied thinking of a hundred thoughts at once, so it's hard to do _anything_ at this point.

"Fuck, and your wrists," Beca observes as she side glances down towards your reddened, burnt up wrists you got while trying to escape from the rope. You can only imagine what your _actual_ appearance looks like after almost being killed. She rubs gently across the burns with the one hand not clenching at the wheel; you wince at the sting but it's nothing too painful to handle.

And you enjoy Beca's touch.

It's comforting, which is _far_ from what you felt moments ago.

The slamming stops, but the new sound flooding the car is Beca's heavy pants from all her exertion and the engine revving. "I'm so sorry, Chloe. For everything. For letting you stay in that... _fucking_ house. For putting your life in danger." Her face falls weakly and her tone loses the rough edge to it momentarily before it spikes back up in volume, causing you to jump in shock when she punches the dashboard of her car once more while accelerating to a scary speed limit. You can her knuckles already starting to bruise, so it kills you to see her so upset. " _Goddammit_! Those fucking bitches are going to pay for what they did to you, I swear to _**God**_ they're-"

"Beca, I love you," you blurt out without even a hitch to your voice when saying this, cutting off Beca, but not really caring, either. Maybe it's not what she expected you to say after almost being killed by the instant paralysis washing over her entire body and the timing is _God_ _awful,_ but nothing has ever felt so right coming out from your mouth like this does. " _Jesus_ , I really, **really** love you. Like, I'm overwhelmingly in love with you." So, you say it again multiple times, exasperated, unable and not really _wanting_ to shake off how incredible it feels to say this out loud.

Guess all it took was your life to be on the line for you to finally come to a conclusion that every moment spent with Beca is a moment you'll treasure, _forever_.

And now that you had time to _really_ think about it while on the verge of being slaughtered, you've come to a conclusion that you love _everything_ about Beca.

You love how sarcastic she is, even when she's sarcastic at the worst of times when you really need to get an answer from her and all she has is something witty to say. You love that she doesn't really know how to cook, but she tries for you and has made it a habit to bring you grilled cheese sandwiches for lunch during your breaks from class. You love that she treats you like a girl who can fight her own and someone that no one would want to fight with.

You love her so much that you _don't_ want to lose her, because your life has been _so much_ better since the day you met her, so it's _terrifying_ that she hasn't said anything back to you.

Gradually, the speed of the car slows down until it's at a complete stop on some random dirt road, which doesn't really matter because you're positive that Beca has lost any of the witches hunting you guys a _long_ time ago. She doesn't say anything, nor does she really even look at you and you try not to think about how bad that hurts when she doesn't even blink a response. There's only silence exchanged between the two of you, the only sound coming from the purr of the engine that vibrates the whole vehicle and her heavy breathing from punching everything inside.

Sensing that Beca is too busy thinking of ways to flee the scene as fast as possible, leaving you and your spontaneous word vomit behind, you gulp down any hesitation and spill everything you have on your mind out on the table.

Because who knows if you'll have the time to do it in the future.

Clearing your throat, "I hate that it took me almost getting killed by half an army of witches to realize this, but I guess I need to just come out and tell you how I feel before I don't get a second chance, and how I feel is so much love for you that it kind of makes me nauseous by the constant butterflies I get when I'm around you."

And if Beca wants to run, you'll deal with that consequence when the time comes, but right now you _need_ her to know.

The time never comes, however, because Beca is still there in the car with you, still not talking, but at least now she's looking at you, which is progress in your book. She's giving you a deadpan, emotionless poker face as she stares into your eyes, her face is cut up and there's a layer of blood, mixed with sweat, mixed with dirt that covers her skin, but nonetheless is she not as beautiful as ever.

"I know it's like super cliche to say on our one month and, _hello_ , we haven't been dating that long- which totally makes me sound like one of _those_ lesbians who moves way too fast and falls in love way too easy." You snicker, attempting to make a joke that may or may not be true, but you get nothing back in return. Not even a blink, which makes you feel like an idiot. Clearing your throat, again, now that you're _extremely_ embarrassed at the situation, "you don't have to say it back, but, Beca, I love you so much and I understand if you don't feel the same, but if that's the case, just forget everything I just said and I'm just a dumb, gullible college girl who latches onto people to quickly and that-"

For the first time in what felt like _hours_ , Beca finally responds back, cutting your rambles off short by taking her hand to hook at the back of your neck and crashes her lips onto yours, the best and _only_ way to get you to successfully shut up.

And it's this action that makes you realize that Beca doesn't have to say anything back at all, because you know from just a touch-from how she's kissing you that she loves you back.

She freaking _loves_ you back.

And if that ain't the best damn closure you've ever heard, then you honestly don't know what is.

* * *

"So tonight didn't go as planned," Beca comments when she re-enters the kitchen where you're camped out at the dining room table of Beca's cabin, surrounded by a glass of water, a first aid kit and a wet cloth drenched in your blood. She dabs a cotton ball with alcohol to clean your wound, warning you beforehand that this is, "going to hurt like a bitch."

You hiss at the burn when Beca applies the gauze soaked in alcohol over the gash on your throat, almost willing to have it get infected rather than experience that pain ever again. She tells you to stop being dramatic when she moves the gauze back towards your neck and you quickly move away from it while smacking Beca's hand. Eventually, you build some tough skin and endure the excruciating stings happening at the base of your throat, teeth clenching so hard they might crack and you have to sit on your hands not to smack Beca's hand away like before.

When she tells you that it's over and proceeds to joke about not having any lollipops to give you tonight for being, " _such a good girl,"_ like you're a child at the doctors getting a shot, you say that you'll settle for a kiss when you wink at her and a kiss- _a damn good kiss_ \- is what you get, which is _way_ better than any stupid lollipop.

"How's your head?" You ask after remembering the little information Beca gave you about the side effects when using her telekinetic powers, and if going at all by what happened in the forest, you assume she's in pain.

And it _kills_ you when she doesn't answer this right away, but gradually eases off the topic, claiming that she's fine-a lot better now that you're safe, but it's a lie. You know she's aching; her body is weak, her face is pale and covered in blood and she isn't her normal, radiant, _glow-y_ self you're usually presented with on the daily.

And it kills you even more to know that you were the cause.

"Honestly, I know that I'm a brute and I kinda suck at emotions-though I _am_ getting better," Beca tries to reason with a pointed finger and you snicker into your hand, not understanding why she needed to back this up. You already know she has transformed so much from the first time you met her and couldn't be more proud. "But I'd be in a lot worse shape if I came back to this cabin without you."

You never thought words could lay so heavy on you, but you blame it on the realism of it all-how you could've easily died in that forest an hour ago without having the chance to tell Beca _bye_.

Or to tell her that you _love_ her and probably have for a long time, but was too blind to see.

It just...kind of all hits you at once-you being able to be sitting here in this kitchen with Beca cleaning up your wounds, using her magic to heal them and it's a damn good thing you're here-definitely an eye opener. Yeah, you have a giant cut on your neck, your wrists are shredded up, your eyes are red and burning from the flames of the fire, but you're _alive_.

Alive because of Beca.

And that's all that makes

Beca kisses you passionately when she see the quiver in your bottom lip when thinking about the seriousness of it all, and it doesn't shock you that the tremble is gone once her lips leave yours. She cleans up the area and you watch her from the table, loving how she can go from witch hunter Beca to Nurse Beca in a blink of an eye.

But, _of course_ , loving her even more.

"Here, before I forget."

As you look up from inspecting your healing wounds on your wrist, your phone is flying towards your face from where Beca tossed it and you catch the device just time before it knocks you in the nose.

But it's not how you remembered it.

Before, there wasn't cracks in the screen and you remember the wallpaper you had set of you and Beca kissing with the orange and pink glow from the sunset sitting behind you guys, or that fact that your phone was in one piece, but now it's in two where you can see all the wires and confusing electrical stuff that lies in the middle of your iPhone.

"I was halfway to Atlanta when Aubrey called you and that stupid fucking Ace of Base song started blaring through my car. Drove back to the house, climbed through your window expecting to surprise you and all I saw was a brownie with a chunk taken out of if and I immediately knew something was up."

Well that explains how Beca knew you were in danger earlier, however, it doesn't explain how she knew where to go when Barden's forest is _gigantic-_ hence why it's a perfect place to sacrifice.

"I know I said I'd lay off the whole _mind reading_ deal, but as soon as I got into the forest, the louder your thoughts became, the closer I knew I was getting to you."

Never mind, that answers your question.

Guess you'll have to make an exception this time because Beca reading your mind actually saved your life rather than just prevented you from getting laid.

Beca washes her hands at the kitchen sink and you watch her every move with your broken device in your hands. She explains how sorry she is for, you know, basically destroying your whole life-not to be a dramatic teenage girl- but you understand why she had to. There's no such thing as Chloe Beale until this whole _witch_ deal is over now that an army of witches are hunting you guys.

And though it sucks not turning on your phone and immediately cheek like a schoolgirl when you see that sloppy kiss you and Beca were engaging in as the two of you were too busy smiling to actually _kiss_ , it had to be done to keep everyone safe.

At least now you can upgrade your phone.

She comes back to the table and you immediately take her hand in yours, holding it across the table for comfort and absentmindedly dragging your thumb in swipes on the top of her hand when you notice in her facial expressions that something is bothering her. You urge her to talk to you, knowing you might make her feel better but promise _never_ to leave.

"During this time tonight, I expected us to be having a nice dinner that I went out of my way to plan for you, along with drinking our livers away with beer and enjoying a normal night together without any problems that come along with me," she explains, irritation present in her voice, but it's far less scary than how she was in the car not too long ago. "Guess no matter what those problems will still show up."

"Hey," you nudge Beca's chin up when her face falls, making sure you look her in the eyes with what you have to say next. "Witch hunter or not, I love you either way and there's nothing that can stop me from loving you, Beca. Plus, assuming that I can't go back to Barden, you have plenty of days to make it up to me."

She smiles at the wink you give her, but it falls into a frown far too quickly, "I honestly don't understand how you could. Basically ruined your life until I can fix all this. Now you're stuck with me until that happens."

It's not the response you expected, but there's a chuckle to Beca's words that automatically brings a small smile to your face when she flips your wrist over and drags her finger over the marks that no longer hurt to touch, but are still rather fresh.

You could think of a million reasons why you love her, but decide there's not enough time in the world to go on this spiel. Falling in love with her was easy once she let you in, but even then with her guarded shield you believe that you'd still be head over heels for the girl. From there the feelings only intensified.

Plus, basically _living_ with Beca? Did you just win the lottery? That's the **best** news you've ever heard and that's even after your mom even told you that after your eighth birthday, you all could go and pick out a family dog.

Beca shakes her head, looking up at the ceiling briefly. "You're the cautious and I'm the... _reckless_. Always there to fix my dumb mistakes and endure my crazy past."

"I wouldn't want it any other way," you assure, scooting closer to Beca in the chair, but not daring to break your intense gaze on the girl. She's cleaned up her face for the most part; there's still cuts and bruises around her cheeks, yet her hair still looks _flawless_ , like always, but the blood is gone, as well as the sweat and dirt layering her skin. "Thank you."

Beca is taken back by this and even snorts disbelieving that she may have heard you wrong, but you let her know that she heard you correctly. "For what? Almost getting you kill- _multiple_ times, I might add."

"For being an adventure each and every day spent with you." You correct without batting a lash, melting on the inside when Beca smiles when hearing this. "Yeah, maybe more times than I can count my life has been on the line, but I don't care about that. Meeting you has changed my life in so many ways, _all_ for the better. Meeting you gives my life a sense of edge that it has never had before, so thank you."

There's a beat of silence where you stare at Beca and Beca stares right back at you without even blinking until she whispers a quiet, "I love you," for the first time out loud and your body has never felt so at peace when hearing this. "I love you," she says louder this time and the words pull at mouth until you're cheeking and blushing like a maniac. "Holy shit, I fucking _love_ you!"

You giggle madly at Beca yelling this through the cabin; all that's missing is her standing on top of the roof, shamelessly announcing this out to the world without a single care. She explains timidly how she's never told anybody that before, and you reach out for her neck, unable to resist her cuteness any longer and kiss her like it's the last thing you left to do.

And she kisses you back with just as much passion, perhaps even more.

" _Finally_!"

A new voice in the kitchen drags out exasperated and far too dramatic. Turns out, it's Stacie who sneaks this comment in and has been hiding behind the corner with Aubrey for who knows how long, listening to yours and Beca's conversation.

"It's about time you two sealed the deal!" Stacie continues on, to which Beca rolls her eyes over a smirk while Aubrey darts over to where you're sitting, inspecting your cuts and burn marks like a worried mother before asking a hundred and one different questions at a erratic speed.

You assure Aubrey that everything is okay, though your body is kind of aching and there's going to be more scars on your body after these few months than your entire twenty two years of living. Especially the one on your forehead that you assume you got when passing out in your room after eating that poisoned brownie.

But Beca informs you that she _so_ _totally_ has a thing for girls with scars, so you laugh at her salacious wink she sends you and don't feel too bummed about them anymore. Especially when she leaves a lingering kiss on the scar slightly above your right eyebrow.

Beca tells everyone that she has to take a phone call and leaves the kitchen, but not without giving you a kiss and asking if you're okay. You assure her that everything is beyond perfect when in reality it shouldn't be due to the previous events that took place tonight, but she takes it. Stacie and Aubrey immediately close around on you when she leaves the room, demanding answers on what happened. So you let them in on all the exciting-but not so exciting- nonsense that you been doing for the past couple hours, starting from the _not-so-sweetheart_ Emily, all the way to Beca rescuing you from being virgin dead meat in the woods surrounded by a pack of coven members.

"How did she know where you were at and that you were in trouble?" Aubrey asks suspiciously, but is glad Beca was able to find you regardless. You remind her that Beca is a witch and the whole clairvoyant talent she picked up from her mom, just in case she forgot.

"Guess you're now playing ghost with us now, huh?" Stacie chips in and sadly, you have to agree. There's no way you can show your face around Barden now with Gail knowing about everything, which only means that police will muster up some stupid story about you getting abducted by Barden's rapist while your face joins all the other "missing" posters around campus. You're glad you happened to leave your car back at the school, which will definitely only help your abduction story.

"I guess so," you don't decline it, though you're not that thrilled about it either.

Beca has already destroyed your phone so police wouldn't be able to track it and even though it was like shattering a piece of your heart, you knew it had to be done. You also know that any form of communication with your parents is out the window and it's only a matter of time until the news gets to them.

Which reminds you.

"Today I saw your parents, Bree," you mumble out weakly to your friend sitting next to you even if it's the last thing you want to talk about. The comforting hand rubbing at your back stalls when your words leave your mouth and you immediately regret saying anything when you see Aubrey's entire body deflate. "They were…" you start uneasy, flicking your fingers back and forth to avoid looking at the pooling tears in Aubrey's eyes threatening to pour out. "They were asking about you."

It doesn't shock you that Aubrey starts to cry before she can respond, which signals Stacie to sweep up under her arms for a hug that she immediately clutches onto at the he contact, soaking the girl's black hoodie with ears and sinking her face into the crook of Stacie's neck. The sight kills you, knowing that they've both been banned from seeing their parents and it hasn't been the easiest thing to do.

And now you have to do the same and just the thought brings your own set of tears to roll down your cheeks to join the sob fest.

The tears never hit the ground, though, because Beca comes back into the kitchen from her phone call, kneels at your feet before swiping the tears that dangle off your chin with her thumb and kisses the wet stains on either side of your face. She whispers into your hair, "I'm so sorry, Chloe," where her mouth is pressed against when she wraps you into a hug and you don't hesitate soaking into her warm embrace.

And though the situation sucks-everything about this _fucking_ sucks, but you have Beca, the girl you love a sickly amount, and as long as you're wrapped in her arms, the more protected you feel.

The more hope you have that tells you this will all blow over and everything will return to normal, but you just have to be patient and wait for Beca to fix everything, just like she tells you.

So you do.

* * *

Beca's on the phone when you get out of the shower, change into the spare clothes she had laid out for you and plops yourself on top of her flannel sheets. She's pacing back and forth in a distance of fifteen feet, and she's making you anxious to know who she's talking to and who has her so distressed. Outfit choice for the evening is also something that is a surprised when you study your pacing girlfriend from the bed, but it's also not a bad surprise, you have to admit.

Not a bad surprise _at all._

In fact, it's such a glorious surprise that takes you off guard in the best of ways that you have a hard time focusing on anything other than the taught stomach muscles, the back dimples, the slightly damp hair from after a shower that flows perfectly over one of of her shoulders.

And let's not forget about the _major_ lack of clothing-or shirt, you should say-which leaves Beca to stand clad in just a black bra and a pair of ripped up skinny jeans, unaware that her current attire is the main culprit for the imaginary drool dripping from your gaped open mouth.

You know you just took a shower, but _hot damn_ you could really use another one.

A cold, _very_ cold shower.

A finger is held up when she looks at you with an apoplectic expression, letting you that she's finishing up with whoever she's on the phone with, but you're too busy mesmerizing all the dips and curves on Beca's upper body to see this.

After the call and snapping out of your little daze, you're soon informed that it was Luke she was talking to and that, apparently, all of you guys are heading out tonight. More specifically, you guys are heading to Buckhead Atlanta for a concert and, like, what the Hell? This is so not how you expected this night to go-though you never expected to almost being burned at the stake, either, so really nothing should be expected.

"Some friends are in town after hearing the news," Beca explains when she notices your dumbfounded look that washes over your face.

"Should we be going out in public? Especially with all the attention drawn to us?" You ask skeptical, not wanting to chance your profile being recognized, even though Buckhead is far from where college students typically hangout.

"Where we are going is safe. Super low key," Beca assures with that glint in her eyes and you believe her. "Plus," she starts, dangling her words over that dirty little smirk of hers before she walks over to where you're sitting on the bed; one leg hanging off the mattress and the other tucked underneath your butt. "Think of it as a double date," she murmurs something so casual, but leave it to her to make anything sound so _libidinous_. Double means that Stacie and Aubrey are coming, as well, which doesn't seem too bad.

And any kind of date sounds _magical_ with Beca, especially since you've never been on one with her before and tonight happens to be your guys one month, so the thought excites you to no other.

You copy her smile as she puts her hands on either side of you on the mattress, leaning in closer to where you can get a delightful whiff of coconuts from her wet hair when she smoothly flips it over to the other side. She follows your movements as you lean back on your hands, the closer she gets, the more you can see the few, darker blue patches in her eyes.

Biting your bottom lip under Beca's intense stare and feeling _very_ small under such a small person, "you sure you don't want to just... _you know_ ," you play along with Beca's flirty behavior and move most your weight to your left hand as your right tugs at the middle of Beca's bra, snapping it back in place. "Stay here all night."

Beca's chuckle is low, almost low enough to make the elbow that's holding most your weight up to buckle, sending you back against the mattress. You keep your strength, however, but feel it slowly slipping away with how Beca is looking at you like a piece of meat and she's someone who hasn't eaten for days. From where your finger is hook in between the cups of Beca's bra, you can feel her stomach muscles tighten when she laughs, which is, like, so _freaking_ hot.

"As much as I'd love to do that-and as much as I really love you." Your smile is big in effort to cover up your blushing, but even then your entire face heats up in a way you're sure Beca notices. Ever since you dropped the bomb, announcing that you love Beca a couple hours ago, it's been a frequent thing making an appearance in her vocabulary, not that you're complaining in any way, shape, or form. No sir. "We can't."

"Boo," you pout at Beca's decline, but she makes it up to you when she closes the rest of the distance and kisses you soft and slow, the urge to pull her down until she's laying on you is very tempting. "You're not helping, you know that, right?" you mumble against Beca's lips but continue to kiss her, exactly going against your words when you swipe your tongue against her own.

"Yep," Beca answers absentmindedly as she steals your bottom lip between her teeth, sucking it lazily and you move your legs to wrap around her back, pulling her down to lay right above you. If you guys are planning to go out tonight, then you want to get as much of Beca as you can get before you can't anymore.

Unless public display of affection is something the two of you want to endure in all night.

This continues on for a little while until Beca has the strength to pull away, breathless, lips swollen and eyes the most dilated you've seen them after the two of you get done making out. By seeing this, it means you aren't the only one in the pair who is struggling to keep their hormones in check, which is _oh so_ refreshing to see that you can cause Beca to get riled up, as well. Kissing Beca is so underrated; you could kiss her for _hours_ and not get sick of it.

You send her off with a slap to her butt, loving the view of your half naked girlfriend as she blow dries her hair, but only able to treasure it for a little while longer until she's throwing on a black tank top before finishing the look with her signature leather jacket.

"And what am I supposed to wear tonight?" You remember when the last outfit you had on got covered in dirt, ashes, blood and right now you're sitting in a pair of baggy grey sweats and a Pink Floyd shirt, all belonging to your girlfriend.

Which also means that her closet is now _your_ closet since all your stuff is back at the Bellas' house.

So, you scavenge through Beca's options of clothes in her gigantic walk-in closet; she actually has a lot to choose from, which makes zero sense because you've only really seen her in leather, skinny jeans and the color black, not that your complaining because she looks _amazing_ in all of it. Surprisingly, she even has a few dresses to choose from and that's where most of your attention gets drawn towards.

"That one," Beca comments from inside the bathroom where she's applying her mascara and you catch her eyes looking at you in the mirror's reflection; one of them being darker than the other. "It's simple and, of course, _black_ , but your eyes look so damn good in that color." She's right about the dress you have in your hands that you've been busy examining; it's a simple cocktail dress that crosses above the chest, giving just the right amount of skin to show. However, red lipstick, the darkest mascara, golden brown eyeshadow and even winged eyeliner seems to be a winning option for what to wear tonight.

Hopefully Stacie has all of this cooped up somewhere so you can steal it from her and maybe get her expert touch to applying everything.

"You think so?" You ask curiously, examining the clothing once more and seeing how it looks on you when you push it up to your front. A dress seems suitable for tonight, however, what _type_ of concert you're going to is still up in the air and could change the whole decision process instantly.

But then again you can dance in anything so your decision is tipping more towards the dress side, mostly because of the darkening you can see in Beca's eyes and you haven't even put the damn thing on _yet_.

"Hell yeah-I mean, your eyes look good regardless of what you wear, but something about black makes your icy, arctic color _pop_. Plus, you have really nice legs and I wouldn't be opposed to gawking at them all night." She shoots you a flirty wink from the reflection before she resumes putting on her makeup and it's hearing these compliments when you come to a rash decision on what to wear tonight.

Taking the dress, you sneak up behind Beca and bring your mouth close to her ear as she carefully applies her mascara with that cute little opened mouth thing all girls seem to do once you bring a weapon that close to the eye. "Well, baby. You won't be the only one staring all night because your butt looks _phenomenal_ in those jeans." You give her butt a firm smack that receives a surprised yelp and thankfully not a watery eye that has just been poked out.

She claims that she could've lost an eye, _of course_ , but you only laugh because just by the compliment, Beca slyly pushes her butt out a little more than before when she applies her makeup, knowing _exactly_ what she is doing as you change from inside the room and laugh to yourself at what a dork this girl is.

But a dork you love, you must admit.

A giant dork with a _great_ ass.

* * *

Arriving to Buckhead takes about forty five minutes; an extra ten because of the concert traffic flooding the highways of Atlanta Georgia and an extra five of just sitting around while Stacie makes sure everything about her appearance is _jaw dropping._ It's not until Beca is dragging her away by the wrist from the windows of her Cadillac midway through applying lip gloss that you guys make it into the music venue.

And can you just say _wow_.

The bar looks like any old, rocker style bar that gives you a Coyote Ugly vibe to it, but is way, _way_ bigger and has a giant music stage that has the letters "PVRIS" written on the back wall above an impressive drum set. It's dark mostly, except for the LED signs and the venue reeks of cigarettes, but the smell is something that you're use to. It's also not as packed as you expected it to be, but you also know that you guys arrived an hour early and that's enough time for a concert venue to go from ghostly, to shoulder to _packed_ with nowhere to move.

It's also a really good thing that Beca convinced you to wear something black due to the fact that everyone-and you mean **everyone** \- in this venue is dressed in either black leather, or black denim, and if you were to wear something like, _for example_ , the red dress you were contemplating from Beca's closet that caught your eye, you would've stood out like a _Goddamn_ sore thumb.

Even Stacie and Aubrey somehow _knew_ that tonight, apparently, is a blackout night when they strolled out of the guest room hand in hand wearing the exact shade; Stacie has on a tight black tank top that is tucked into a pair of high waisted, black daisy dukes, framing her long, toned legs and giving them that extra _mile_. Aubrey has on a dress similar to yours, but hers involves a lot more lace and is long sleeved compared to the one you're wearing which is sleeveless.

Also, perhaps, less _expensive_? How the hell did Aubrey get her hands that?

"Hey homewrecker," Stacie's voice pulls you out of your admiration towards Aubrey's dress and slight amount of envy by snapping her fingers in your line of sight. "Eyes on _your_ prize, not mine." She's teasing you by that dazzling half smile of hers and if it wasn't for it, you'd be a little worried about your safety after just getting caught staring at her girlfriend-or whatever the hell Aubrey is.

Again, they have _yet_ to define the relationship, even with the continuous sleepovers- **adult** sleepovers, you assume- the constant kissing and holding hands every chance they get. A complete _idiot_ would assume that they are dating.

Anyways, off that topic.

You follow Stacie's finger over to where she is pointing and your eyes land directly on your prize, standing in all her leather glory, chatting up with Luke who has apparently arrived to the scene unannounced and all you can think to yourself is, _damn_. Getting lost in your girlfriend's beauty is incredibly easy to do and also inevitable, mostly because her breathing is simply _breathtaking_.

But when she adds in the hair drag, pushing all of it back in the most sexiest way possible, that cock in her jaw whenever she speaks, or that signature eye roll she gives to Luke anytime he breathes is just…

You honestly think your world stops spinning.

That is until another presence joins the conversation happening between Beca and Luke and you now think your world just _exploded_ into a million tiny little pieces.

"Who is _that_?" Aubrey questions suspiciously from the side; you barely even noticed her and Stacie invading your space due to your attention being glued onto the new company sliding her grimy little hands all over your girlfriend in a long lasting hug. A hug lasting _way_ longer than you feel comfortable with. "She's just... _wow."_

The lack of words and breathless exasperation from Aubrey doesn't help the situation, but you know she's completely right. Unfortunately, this girl is _jaw dropping_ ; she's taller than Beca by the length of legs you envy from afar as they're highlighted by the beautiful, backless, black silhouette dress she is flaunting, along with her long, ombré hair curled to a masterpiece.

This girl is so freaking pretty from afar, even, that it makes you grit your teeth, clench your hands into fists at either side of your body when you watch Beca respond the way she does at the new guest and can feel the green layer protruding from your eyes because you know _exactly_ who she is.

What you don't understand is _why_ she's here and _why_ she has the audacity to talk to Beca- _your_ Beca. Normally, judging a book by its cover is not something that you'd find yourself doing and holds dear to heart, but there's something about this girl that just grinds your gears. Something about her flawless appearance and the way she holds herself that really freaking _irks_ you.

"She's super _hot_ ," Stacie gushes shamelessly and you share mutual wants with Aubrey as the two of you contemplate smacking the _bejesus_ out of the taller girl for her comment, but your feet move faster than your hands and you're already heading over to the scene, horns drawn and steam blowing from your ears that is caused by only _one_ person in particular.

And that person happens to be Jade _freaking_ West.

Beca catches you first and the smile she greets you with is almost enough to make you forget why you're even upset in the first place.

 _Almost_...makes you forget.

But then you're greeted with two snakey jade eyes, a mischief smirk up to no good and two perfectly sculpted eyebrows to literally _die_ for and your right back to being the jolly green monster about ready to cause havoc on everyone.

But you fake a smile even though you're fighting the urge to take both hands and strangle this girl for no apparent reason other than the fact she's Beca's ex girlfriend

Wait, that's not correct.

The right label would be ex _fuck buddy_ , excuse the mistake.

"What is this nonsense?" Beca lifts her hand to brush over the skin that's circling around Luke's mouth and even part of his cheeks down to his jawline, disgust oozing from her mouth. It's a new- _strange_ -sight that also is worthy enough of a double take because usually Luke keeps a clean shave, not all this grubble.

Beca continues rubbing Luke's face, pushing his cheeks together and plucking some of the blonde hairs sticking out from his chin. "Seriously, what the fuck? All this pins and needles?"

"It's called a beard, mate." Luke smacks her hand away with a chuckle, dodging her hands again when she reaches back up for his face. "I know you're a lesbian and all, but straight chicks _totally_ dig a man with a beard"

" _Ohkay_ ," Beca snorts sarcastically with one eyebrow raised high, not believing a single word Luke is saying and it makes you giggle at his personal offense. "If chicks are into making out with a cactus."

"I don't know; I think it's kinda hot." Jade chips in as she studies Luke newly grown beard. "He's always looked like a blonde, British fetus but now... _yum_." You can visibly see Luke's head inflating by the compliment and how Jades eyes seem to linger a little longer, a little more flirty.

Rolling her eyes at the obvious flirting and sensing your presence by her side, "Chloe, this is Jade…Jade, this is Chloe, my girlfriend." Beca introduces you two, but you catch some hesitation in her voice, as if she knows your exact thoughts at the moment, clairvoyant or not. She puts a hand on lower part of your back for comfort, so you take it as an invitation to remove any space separating you two and practically glue your body to hers like a pair of siamese twins.

"This is also Stacie and Aubrey-ex Bellas and also currently hooking up." Aubrey chokes on her spit by the information Beca informed the group with while Stacie seems unaffected as she lifts a hand to shake Jade's, gushing about how nice it is to meet her and asking her a ton of different questions about what highlight and contour she uses.

Jade finds humor in Stacie's eagerness and how Aubrey is one choke away from puking, but they aren't the ones she has her attention drawn to. Instead, she looks at you incredulously, and you hate that by just a glance, you gulp nervously.

"Girlfriend, huh?" Jade mumbles disbelievingly over that stupid smile she's had on her face the entire time and you catch her eyes studying your frame, slowly, head to toe and without a shame.

And, okay, you _obviously_ don't like this girl already because of reasons (mostly jealousy but that doesn't matter at the moment), but you do have to admit she has a certain aroma about her presence that is extremely intimidating and makes you feel really, _really_ small under her stare while she carefully observes you.

"Never pegged you for having a girlfriend, B." Jade's eyes meet yours once again after she's done examining whether you're worthy or not it felt like, and even with Beca's hand rubbing at your back that is surprisingly calming you down, you immediately get riled back up when those slanted, jade color cat eyes meet yours. "Nor did I expect you to know the meaning of the label."

"Yeah, well people change," Beca snaps back, startling Jade by the defensive response and the immature part of you wants to roll on the ground, pound your fists in laughter while the mature part of you keeps you from doing this by remaining calm. However, there is a new shade of smugness that glows across your face and you can't help but think to yourself, " _yeah, that's_ _ **my**_ _girlfriend."_

"It's our one month tonight," You gloat with a certain tut to your chin, smug and all. You want to rub it in her face that all she was to Beca was a quick layover and someone she just wanted to get under, which makes you nauseous just thinking about it, but know it's true.

" _Awh_ , that's cute," Jade fakely cheeks back and you can catch that she really doesn't mean this by the sarcastic heighten in her voice to match yours, which, like, _what a bitch. Look who's jealous now, Jade._ "Well, it's nice to meet the girl who was able to tie this one down."

It's sickly fake, but Jade sticks out her hand in front of you for a shake anyways, and you take it instantly. Even if half of you wants to slap that smile off her face while the other half is slightly terrified what would be the consequences because like it or not, Jade is intimidating. Never would you admit that out loud, of course.

"I'd keep this one under close radar," Jade warns you in between hand shake until she drops her _abnormally_ soft hand and switches her gaze somewhere else-more specifically, your **girlfriend.** "She is sure a good one, if you know what I mean." The wink is far unnecessary and same with the tone she just used that apparently only catches your attention.

There's a lot of things wrong about the situation and what Jade just said. It starts with the unlit cigarette she pulls out from her left breast cup before lighting the stick and shoves it into her mouth, but that's not the main issue you see.

You _hate_ the lingering stare she has over Beca as she scans her cat eyes up and down your girlfriend's frame in almost a preditorial way. You _hate_ the coy bite to her bottom lip when doing so that causes your stomach to twist uncomfortably in rage that she's able to do this in front of your face. You _hate_ the fearless and cockiness this girl radiates with and how she's so taken back by Beca's decline for a smoke when she knows Beca use to smoke like a chimney.

But what you hate the most is that you have _nothing_ to say to this girl.

So you don't, even when you have an encyclopedia worth of words to say.

"I need a drink before we watch Lynn blow the roof off this place," Jade announces breathlessly through an inhale of smoke before blowing it all towards the ceiling. She offers the cigarette once more to Beca, who stands her ground and declines it; you think it's incredibly rude that she is trying to push this back onto Beca when she has came so far. "Who's with me? Tyler makes the _best_ drinks in Atlanta."

"I'm going to pretend like you didn't just say that," Luke grumbles offended and Jade snickers at the pout in his face before sweeping her arm through his, claiming that _he_ is the best bartender in all of _America_.

"Don't have to twist my arm! Need some juice in my system!" Stacie cheers before dropping a kiss over Aubrey's cheek and you'd have to agree, if it wasn't for the fact you'd rather step on a million legos _barefooted_ than to follow Jade to the bar.

Everyone follows the girl over to the bar where people are starting to swarm around except for Beca and Aubrey who sit back with you. The place is getting more and more crowded, which also means that there's more smoke getting passed around, filling the whole venue and giving the room a thick haze that surrounds you. It's also getting louder with all the voices and the sudden rock music that starts blaring as you wait for the set to start, so you barely hear Beca talking to you from the side.

It's when she snaps her fingers in front of your face that she catches your attention.

"What did you say?" You ask-well kind of scream this to Beca who's looking at you concerned, but also kind of amused.

"You're jealous," Beca states positively with one of her half smirks, as if she knows she can't be wrong.

"No," you scoff out annoyed by this and cross your hands above your chest, but who are you kidding. Your eyes are basically greener than the hulk right now at the thought of Jade and her super cool personality and badass aroma. Jade and Beca are basically the same person; the tattoos, the dark make up, the confidence in their voices and that sarcastic wit you fell in love with.

And let's not forget the obvious one which is that Jade is _unbelievingly_ attractive.

So attractive that you can't even pretend like she's hideous and fool yourself.

Which freaking sucks because all you see when you look at her stupid pretty face is _perfection_.

"She's _lovely_ ," you lie sarcastically, mustering up the largest fake smile you can make without showing the visible cringe your body coils into when speaking this lie. "Honestly, she's a real... _charmer_!"

Beca chuckles at the obvious sarcasm, how unconvincingly you sound, and licks her lips before biting her bottom one, having the power to hypnotize you in a single motion. "I love you, not only for what you are, but for what I am when I am with you!" She yells over the music and you feel the need to clench at your chest to keep your heart from beating at an abnormal speed because your scared it might stop functioning if you don't control the erratic pounding soon. Next thing you feel is a hand sliding down from your back to cover your left cheek before giving it a quick squeeze; you squeak at the hand on your butt and it earns a amused chuckle. "Now that's something I've never told anyone, let alone _Jade_!"

You cheek at the leverage Beca gives you before she leaves and heads to the bar where Jade, Stacie, and Luke are taking Fireball shots, you assume, leaving you to feel on top of the world despite the hint of jealousy you feel inside your gut. Now Jade might have one thing over you which is sleeping with Beca, but damn you have so much _more_ than that.

"I don't like her already." Aubrey comes up next to you, crossing her arms above her chest as she eyes the one person that has been on your radar all night. Leave it to a best friend for always hating the other opponent, no matter if there's competition there or not. "She's like Beca on steroids with her attitude, alternative makeup and piercings."

You laugh out loud at the gag noise Aubrey makes because it's so true, but she also forgot to mention how none of it matters because regardless, Jade is hot and she _knows_ she's hot.

"Ugh, I bet her favorite drink is wine." You don't understand the randomness of Aubrey's assumption and are about to comment on it, but before you do she cuts you off, adding more. "With a straw," she finishes (maybe) with a grumble of annoyance, looking over to Jade who is drinking a far more _butch_ drink than wine.

"I don't know what that's supposed to mean…"

You're all around confused, but all for Aubrey and the shared hatred over Beca's ex partner. It's quite amusing.

"Oh who cares," Aubrey waves it off nonchalant, returning her attention back to you. "What matters is that you're happy with Beca-and though it took a while for her to rub off on me, I think shes good for you."

" _Awh_ , you two are finally bonding!" You tease playfully, nudging Aubrey's hip with yours and poke her a few times at the eye rolls you receive but know you're right. Not to jump the boat, but her and Beca are basically _best friends_. "When are you two making charm bracelets?!"

"Absolutely not, I _tolerate_ her-and not only because she can handle a butterfly knife like a pro."

You gasp dramatically, covering your mouth with a hand. "Are you telling me _Aubrey_ _Posen_ is intimidated by my girlfriend?"

"Psh, _no_." Aubrey shrugs it off with a scoff and remind you that, "I've gone hunting with my dad and have a few tricks up my sleeve," which you already knew as your minds reels you back in time when Aubrey showed off these "tricks" and blew Alice's head off. "I'm more scared of you, Missy. You have a mean right hand slap if I do remember because I welt on my cheek for days."

"Couldn't let you off the hook with kissing my girlfriend so easy, Bree."

"Understandable," Aubrey agrees with a snicker, then quickly turns pale at the memory before her body shivers uncontrollably. "Which by the way, _**ew**_."

"Be nice, Bree, she's cute."

Aubrey eventually apologizes for the insults and the two of you laugh it off, but something sparks your memory when you take a glance over at the party happening by the bar and spot Stacie sending your friend flirty winks who blushes on the spot. Not beating around the bush, you ask what her deal is with Stacie, something that has been on your mind for a while but haven't had the chance for much needed "girl talk."

And Aubrey explains that she likes Stacie _a lot_ and the feeling is mutual with Stacie.

"I've never felt this at about someone before and it scares me, but what scares me more is how my parents will take it."

"I think they'll love her," you tell Aubrey with one of your wide, contagious smiles that is instantly mimicked. You tell her this not because it's something that Aubrey wants to hear, but because you think it's one hundred percent true.

Stacie is _far_ different than anybody Aubrey has dated in the past and brought home to her parents. Yes, she's the first girl to date, but she's the first person to make Aubre the happiest you've ever seen her. Stacie's the smartest person-besides Aubrey- that you've ever met and she is jaw dropping _gorgeous_. Stacie also treats Aubrey really, _really_ well, which is all you can really ask for as a best friend.

So you tell her you're happy for her and will be there for her _every_ step of the way when she tells her parents because that's what friends are for.

And if, for whatever reason, Aubrey is shunned-which, like, _highly_ doubt it- you let her know she will always have you-a **sister** that will never leave her side and she hugs you with tear filled eyes before announcing that she needs some alcohol in her system before she's a sobbing mess.

You watch the blonde leave your side and head to the bar, but aren't alone for long once she's gone.

"For you, _m'lady_." Beca comes back holding the girliest drink in her hand; a blue hawaiian, and it looks so unnatural with her image that it makes you giggle and melt at the same time because of the sweet gesture. "Tyler said this is sugary, most girliest drink on the menu, so I took his word."

"Thanks, baby," you take the prettiest drink you think you've ever seen and pay her back with a kiss; a kiss starting off slow and determined to last longer than a few seconds, but one swipe with your tongue over her lips and you could still taste the whiskey layering her mouth. Pulling your face away from hers in disgust and trying not to succumb to the little chase she does it effort to reconnect your guys' lips, "nope." You stop her from coming any closer by putting a hand at her chest and quickly take a sip from your drink to desperately wash away that foul taste. "Fireball is a no go, baby," is the only reason preventing you from devouring your girlfriend in front of a bunch of strangers.

"But you're _my_ fireball."

"Sweet talking won't get you anywhere until you cleanse your mouth with something more tolerable, like a lime and tequila," you chirp bashfully with a large smile and only get an eye roll in return for doing this.

"Pretty sure you just want me to go back to the bar so you can stare at me some more, huh?" Beca accuses with an amused arched brow and you opt for laughing instead of declining, stealing the straw stuck in your drink to drown out some of the guilt glowing on your threatening smile. "Or should I say my _butt_?" She isn't wrong, as a matter of fact; you were completely honest about how her butt looked in those jeans, so someone sue you for appreciating a gift when you see one and tonight ladies and gents, your girlfriend looks like a full on _snack_.

More and more people flood the bar and general admission area by the stage; it's not as busy as the usual concerts you've been too, which is strange. By this time when the doors open, the _whole_ venue would've been packed shoulder to shoulder-but let's not forget these concerts you've been to have been super popular artists; Nicki Minaj, Paramore, and Justin Bieber.

But let's keep that last one to yourself; Beca would not even think _twice_ about breaking up with you if she heard this come from your mouth.

What's also strange about tonight is how everyone-and you mean _everyone_ \- in this bar as of now is matching in one identical color, which is _black_. They also seem to have quite the interest in Beca and all seem to be long lost friends of hers when they spot her in the distance. Seriously, not _one_ person who hasn't recognized Beca came over to you guys and started chatting about life, politics, music, and whatever else that left you with so many unanswered questions.

Like the first one you have, which is how Beca became so damn popular in the city of Atlanta when she has only been here for a month-but then again she _is_ a famous music producer with a bunch of popular hits.

Another question you have pondering, however, goes hand in hand with the whole wardrobe choices everyone planned out tonight, which is why does everyone flaunt that same looking symbol Beca wears for a necklace?

It's not all worn like hers, though; some people have it tattooed somewhere on their body-majority have it on their forearms, or neck ( _yikes_ ). Some people have it as million dollar earrings, or just a studded ring that glitters even in the dark. Some people have pins of the symbol like they're the next mockingjay, but either way regardless of where this symbol is placed, you feel _super_ left out right now because you aren't wearing it _somehow_.

Two very young, punk looking people are the next of many tonight who greet Beca with a fist bump and a side hug, leaving you in awe with all the silver covering their faces-but not in a gross way. They, as well, are also flaunting this strange looking symbol that you have yet to ask Beca about, which, like, shame on your part because now you're itching to know what it all means.

"Nash...Levon, this is Chloe," Beca greets you to the two strangers whose faces light up automatically and you think they're slowly losing their intimidating fronts they glowed with upon first arrival. "My girlfriend."

"Wow, _girlfriend_?" Honestly, you don't know who is who by the unique, gender unisex names, but the guy says this to Beca, disbelief lacing his words. And, like, if you had a dollar for everytime someone said this to Beca so far tonight, you'd be able to write, publish and go on tour with a book you'd write about how, _finally_ , Beca has a girlfriend. "And a pretty one, too."

You blush at the complement, as well as the extra kiss the guy drops to the top of your hand when shaking his. He's wearing a lot of scary jewelry around his knuckles and wrists, along with the black ink that flows out from the cuffs of his leather jacket, down over the tops of his hands and fingers.

"Shut up, Nash." Beca takes a swift jab to his gut, causing him to share a laugh with her when he expertly catches her fist before it makes contact with his stomach. " _My_ girlfriend, not yours."

You now know who's who by this little clarification, and it's Levon up next who shakes your hand enthusiastically before she surprises you with an unexpected hug. "It's so nice to meet you! Love your hair! Natural?"

You're overwhelmed by the sweetness these two new strangers are filled with-and not to judge a book by their cover, but they seem like the complete _opposite_ of two people who would even know the basic manners. Levon-though she is a very attractive girl with long blonde hair and green eyes-has a tribal face tattoo that corners one of her eyes, _for crying out loud_ , on top of many more tattoos and a septum piercing that completes her profile that screams " _I have a shiv, and been to prison_ _ **twice**_ _."_

Nash is even more scary, with his black leather jacket, sleeved up arms covered in black ink and snake bite lip piercings. His deep voice vibrates between your ribcage as he chews on a toothpick that is in between his teeth. Not only is he _super_ tall-way taller than Luke-and has muscles on top of _muscles_ , but he even has a freaking _Mohawk_.

Like, the rock band, spiked up Mohawk that is at least three inches tall in height and died a dark red with black tips. You even want to say that touching one of his spikes would draw blood, but you're too nervous-too _scared_ of him to ask.

"It's nice to meet you, too!" You finally shake off the scared little kitten attitude and reply back to Levon, curving up one of your _Chloe Beale_ grins to brighten the room. "Both of you!" You say to both of the new friends you just met, who you can't help but notice smell wonderful; Levon has some sort of fancy perfume and Nash's cologne smells _heavenly_.

"She the reason why some of us are here tonight, B?" Levon asks Beca with a worried glance; you are slightly taken back by the remark. She must be joking, unless someone-Beca- forgot to inform you about several things happening tonight that _apparently_ has your name written all over. "Wait," she starts while holding up a finger and takes a whiff of the air around the group. "Just kidding. I can smell the purity."

 _Oh my God._

You want to scream in embarrassment because, of course, you still have that scent of a inexperienced, college _virgin_ radiating off your skin like a new perfume, but you don't.

Should've just worn a giant sign on your forehead, reading " **Barden's Redheaded Virgin** ," to clear everything up.

You _do_ spend a lot of time piecing together the new information you've just been given-like how Levon _knew_ there was something different about you by just a certain smell when all you can smell is booze and cigarette smoke in this place.

Like Beca.

Who turned out to be a _witch_.

So knowing this, it sort of makes your breath hitch at the thought of _where_ exactly you are right now, and _who_ exactly are you with.

"And I also take it you're a natural redhead?" Levon suggests suspiciously, but it seems like she already knows the answer by her tone, so you don't bother responding back.

"No wonder Gail and Kommissar want her." Nash adds his part and the two familiar names he mentioned catches your attention. "Still pure, though. _Huh_ , how long have you two been dating?"

"One month today!" Despite the urge to jump in front of oncoming traffic when the subject of you being a virgin is where tonight's conversation is going, you excitedly answer Nash while grabbing Beca's hand before linking every finger with hers.

Levon gushes a sincere " _congrats_ " and the two of you have a cute little girl moment to yourselves while Beca threatens to kick Nash in the manhood when he teases her about not doing anything about your purity if the two of you have been dating for a month. Off to the side with Levon where Beca assumes you can't hear, she tells Nash that, "great things take time, dude, and I know you probably already think Chloe is great, but _God_ this girl is extraordinary. I fucking love her."

"Holy _shit_ ," Nash deadpans over to Beca who has the same expression on her face-though hers is more dazed and adorable. You, on the other hand, want to cry (all good tears) at what Beca just said without her knowing you could hear. "Who even are you?"

"Shut the fuck up." Beca laughs with a shake to her head, pushing the guy in the shoulder when he starts demanding to know where the old Beca is and who kidnapped her. Guilty to this, you keep your mouth shut- _besides_ the megawatt grin taking over your face at how much you love this girl.

"Well, whatever it is going on, we are happy to help," Levon says genuinely with a smile and Nash nods his head agreeing. "It's been awhile since we got the gang back together. Your mom would've loved this."

There's a wave of silence that washes around the group at Levon's last words, but it's not the awkward silence that you'd expect when bringing up Beca's mother. It feels like a moment of silence a nation of people would give for someone significant, and meaningful, and you have no doubt that Beca's mom isn't either of these. Just by the talk of her-the rumors you hear every now and then, you know for a fact the woman was a force to reckon with.

Shame you never got to meet the one woman who gave birth to the strongest, most courageous person you are ever going to meet and have fallen in love with.

Levon and Nash bid their goodbyes, telling you guys that they'll catch both of you after the show to talk more about everything that is going on. With the opportunity and alone time you now have with Beca when taking a glance at Aubrey and Stacie to see that the two are busy taking drinks at the bar with two other strangers and notice Jade talking to Luke in the distance, you turn to face Beca, desperate for her to fill in the blank spaces to all your questions.

You give her a questioning glance before she knows exactly what you're waiting hear.

"Levon and Nash are old friends of mine…" Beca starts and her voice wavers off uneasy. "Actually, everyone in this vicinity is an old friend of mine."

"Well I guess that makes sense since I feel like I'm holding holds with the president of the United States- **old** president, by the way," you quickly remind once it's out of your mouth and it earns a genuine laugh from Beca. "So, do they all know your mom, too?"

"We all work for my mom," Beca explains, but her face falls immediately into a frown and you know it's because of how she worded her sentence. "Well, we all _worked_ for my mom." You reach for Beca's other hand when you hear the break in her voice and remind her that she's allowed to open up to you and you still be there for her in the end. You always will. "Now they kind of work for me."

This is news. _Big_ news, as a matter of fact. At first, you thought Beca only worked as a super successful music producer from LA who kills witches on her free time, but you guess there's a lot more to what this girl does and how she's just a dark box full of never ending mysteries.

"My mom ran this huge organization that got passed down to me when she died and I guess it's not a shock to hear that this organization is running on witch hunters."

Now things are starting to make sense, slowly but surely. "So all these people here tonight are witch hunters? Like you?" Beca nods her head to answer your question, but it only spurs up another question you have to ask. One of _many_ , you hate to say."Are they witches, as well?"

"Some are, some aren't. The ones who are came from a dark past ruled by Gail, similar to Jade's."

 _Ugh_ , you'd rather not talk about that girl and ruin your night here with Beca. The last thing you want to do is find sympathy in her past from doing stupid mistakes, which you guess lead her to Beca's mom who helped her through it. Geez, was Beca's mom like a witchy Yoda or something?

"So Levon...is she a witch?" Beca nods her head, proving your assumption correct. "And does that make Nash a wizard?"

"Okay, _Hermione_. Calm down this isn't Hogwarts."

You take a heavy hit of offence by this, mostly because Beca just insulted you by using the _greatest_ book series you have ever read-which also means that she either read the books, as well, or watched the movies. Either way, this is a serious question you have because, now that you think about it, what _do_ you call a male witch? Obviously not a wizard, _thank you Beca Mitchell._

"If he was a witch, which he _isn't_ , he'd still be called a witch."

"Now was that so hard to answer in a _non_ smart ass way?" You ask, unamused, and a cross to your arms.

"Smart ass runs in my DNA, baby," Beca cooes seductively and, like, that may be true, but most of her DNA consists of being ridiculously sexy at the worse times.

And you want to say that you don't like it, but unfortunately, you _love_ it.

Beca sobers up quickly, returning back to the original conversation. "All the guys in here are just hunters, majority of the females are witches- _ex_ members of Gail's black witch coven."

"So they're white witches? Like You?"

"Yep," Beca pops the "p" causally. "As harmless as a fly-unless you're a black witch then you're dead meat."

You take away your hand, disconnecting it from Beca's and move it up to her neck to trace around the thin black chain. "Is that why all of you guys wear this?" and you drag the pad of your thumb over the silver symbol that dangles off in between the gap of her collarbone.

Beca nods her head and says, "a vengeance," without really backing up what this has to do with anything, but you assume it's like the organization's slogan, or something. "I never thought it would get to this point, with you being in this much danger, but it has, unfortunately. So, when the going gets tough, the tough calls for help and I have a great group of people who would _love_ to get some witches blood on their hands."

It feels incredibly special to know that there's a strong base of people willing to risk their lives in effort to save you and your sisters. It feels even better to know that they're willing to help without even knowing a damn thing about you, yet would go into a witch nest guns blazing if it meant saving your sorority, but also the world from being turned into a _gigantic_ witch cult.

"Sorry I didn't explain this to you earlier; it was a last minute thing that I sprung onto you when I found out Lynn was going to be in Atlanta," Beca apologizes and you steal the hand making its way up to rub at the back of her neck-a gesture she does when she's upset, or nervous- making sure she knows that you understand. This is a lot to taken in, but now that you know you're surrounded by hundreds of witch hunters fighting for your safety, the worries about you getting mugged by the end of tonight is now nonexistent.

Or stuck on the dance floor in some sort of dangerous mosh pit.

You lean your forehead to rest against Beca's; the heels you're wearing compared to Beca's boots make you just a little more taller than normal, so there is minor adjustments made to reach a comfortable level. "Thank you for doing all of this for me. Slowly opening up..." Beca's hands make their way to rest on either side of your hips and your heart leaps to your throat. You can't help but feel like your floating on cloud nine whenever she touches you. "Saving my life and all-my knight in ragged leather."

"What are girlfriends for?" Is Beca's quick and smug retort to your cheesy saying that she can't help but smile at. "Without you I would have no one kiss."

You roll your eyes _hard_ at your charming girlfriend you wouldn't expect any less from, but still manage to slide a smile in there somewhere. It's kind of impossible not to when someone this amazing is part of your life. "You're lucky that you're so sexy and irresistible."

"Hey now," Beca cooes playfully into your ear as her right right hand wraps around your waist, bringing your fronts close together. "Don't give me all the credit tonight, Red; you look _so damn_ good right now."

If it wasn't by the exasperation in Beca's voice as she scans you head to toe, as if her other power is x-ray vision and she's looking beneath the thin piece of fabric covering your skin, it's definitely the hand that descends lower down your back until that hand is no longer placed on your back. She mutters a quiet but sincere, " _you look beautiful,_ " eyes still glued to your chest for a moment until they meet yours again.

And it's the look in her eyes, and what she just told you that tears your insides to shreds.

As you two wait for the concert to start, stealing innocent kisses and learning more information about Beca's friends, the whole venue breaks out into a loud cheer when they hear what's playing during the intermission sets and begin to sing along.

"Tell me you know Poison, babe." Beca asks when you look around at everyone belting the same lyrics in awe, completely baffled, but amazed all at the same time. You don't answer Beca right away, half because you're too busy enjoying everyone using their beer bottles as microphones, and half because the music is _really_ loud. When you don't respond, Beca takes it as an answer she doesn't want to hear. "Seriously? You don't know who _**Poison**_ is, dude?!"

"I _know_ who Poison is! 80's rock are my jams!" You tell Beca before she has a mental breakdown and smack her in the stomach at realization of what she just referred to you as. "And did you just call me _dude_?!"

Beca ignores the dude comment, but smirks when you ask it, meaning she one hundred percent just referred to you as a mutual friend who is ready to go for some beers and shoot some pool. Admittedly, what did you expect? This is Beca Mitchell who you are dating, so really you should expect nothing less and can't help but love it regardless. This is a tip for all you ladies out there- get you a significant other who calls you "babe," and "dude" in the same sentence.

"Poison is _thee_ band, babe," you tell Beca. "This song is my jam," you bob your head a little, hoping Beca catches your drift. "My la-"

"Lady jam?" Beca takes the honors of accurately completing your sentence, wiggling her eyebrows up and down suggestively. You confirm this, not that Beca really needed any confirmation because she was already familiar with your certain choices of songs under such a label. "This is a good one, but I have to say my favorite is 'Talk Dirty to Me.'"The wink she throws at you reels you into a deep dark loophole of _enticing_ thoughts that you have a hard time shaking from your head.

You start singing along with the one of Poison's hit singles "Nothin' But a Good Time," joining the rest of the crowd as you belt the lyrics at the top of your lungs and begin dancing even when Beca is destined not to join. She's smiling at you in that way; a way where it seems like you are the only person in the world, or that you _are_ her world, and you don't really know any other way to go about this, so you just kiss her.

You kiss her like you two aren't currently surrounded by hundreds of people and the fact that you may or may not be getting second hand high from all the smoke.

Or the fact that you'll have to take multiple showers in a span of an hour just to rid of the smell, but regardless of the scene, kissing Beca makes everything feel _perfect_.

Which is why you're more than upset to hear her name being called from somewhere inside the bar and is the reason that separates you two from engaging in a more heated liplock, as previously planned.

"Beca!"

The two of you look over to see Luke thrashing his arms in the air to catch Beca's attention, screaming something about the lead singer wanting to talk to her and once he's spotted, Beca rolls her eyes, grumbling an, "I'll be right back," under her breath before leaving you with a chaste kiss on the lips. You watch her weasel her way through the crowd until she's following Luke backstage and you pick up your drink from earlier, taking a fairly large gulp before shoving the piece of pineapple that came with the drink into your mouth.

About five seconds later, a new presence slides up behind you, bumping you in the shoulder suddenly, and expecting it to be Beca back from her little conference call-though it was rather a _speedy_ meeting- you almost choke on the piece of pineapple you're sucking on when you are greeted with the last person you'd ever expect to have a one on one conversation with.

"Hi," Jade cruises up to the side of you with a manic grin, holding a clear glass drink of dark liquor while her index finger plays around with the black straw inside. Startled all around-whether by the unexpected guest, or Jade's undeniably _raw_ beauty smacking you in the face- you _do_ end up choking on the juices from the pineapple and start coughing uncontrollably with zero sympathy whatsoever. "Sorry, didn't mean to startle yah, _little lady_."

Jade's definitely not sorry by any shape, way or form; you can hear it in her fake Southern tone she perfected and by the way she is staring at you like a freak of nature while you hack up a lung that her apology is insincere. Surprisingly, she does hand you her drink to take a sip from when she sees that your's is empty, but you regret it instantly when the taste of whiskey wastes over your taste buds like lighter fluid and you're back to coughing up an organ all over again.

"What….the hell… is that?!" you groan in between breaths you have to take in order to not throw up. You wipe at the corners of your mouth where the liquid spilled out with the back of your hand. Perhaps, Jade is trying to kill you so she could have Beca all to herself; you honestly wouldn't be surprised if that were the case.

"Oh this?" Jade feigns confusion, lifting her drink up for show as if she has no idea what you're talking about. _Bitch_. "SnakeBite," she announces like it's a common drink choice everyone should know, but you just look at her like a crazy person, unsure if she's joking or not. Any drink called " _snakebite_ " is destined to be poisonous, no doubt about it; a poisonous drink that _you_ just ingested. "Just some Canadian whiskey and a dash of lime juice, nothing too extreme, Red."

No.

Absolutely **not**.

No one calls you that except for Beca, so you scowl at her for the audacity to spring a nickname upon you.

Jade lifts the drink back up to her lips, swallowing the last bit of alcohol left like a shot of water before slamming the empty glass on the table without even a flinch to her features. Needless to say, you're impressed that a drink as strong as that didn't even phase her, but of course, this is Jade West you are talking about, who is the epitome of a goddess if you ever were to see one up close.

"You don't like me," is Jade's sudden response as an icebreaker; it's straight forward, no fluffing and straight to the point, which is why you're taken back by it. "Scratch that, you _really_ don't like me."

"That's not true," You force out, despite the trueness of it all. There's no other reason to dislike Jade other than the fact she has something over you that you don't and she's all around _perfect_ , but mostly your jealousy is the main reason why you can barely look at the girl without wanting to strangle her.

Jade scoffs a laugh; a laugh that screams _bullshit_. "Why can't you just admit that you don't like me? That, for whatever reason, you're _jealous_." The utter honesty throws you off quite a bit, but the main question is how she knew your attitude towards her is driven off of jealousy?

"Is it that obvious?" You ask defeated as you hang your head, knowing damn well that when you get jealous-though it's a new emotion- you have a habit of not hiding it well. A realization sparks your head, however, when you remember what type of people you're surrounded by and what exactly Jade West is classified as. "Let me guess, you're a clairvoyant, too?"

"No," is Jade's quick answer back to this assumption, making you knit your brows together with confusion. "You're just _shit_ at hiding your emotions." she chuckles at the stretch to both your eyes and you want to take this empty glass of yours and smash it against your head for being so obvious. Seems like everyone around knew that you are a big green monster when it come to Jade. " _Annnnd_ I'm also a clairvoyant," she drawls out evilly.

"I _knew_ it!" You exclaim victoriously, pointing an accusing finger to Jade who is busy laughing at you. "You read my thoughts! That's like...an invasion of _privacy_!"

"Calm your tits." Jade's words do the _opposite_ of calm you down despite their purpose. "Kind of hard to think about anything when there's a person feet away, mustering up a thousand thoughts on ways to strangle you."

Okay, her saying it out loud makes you seem like a complete _psychopath_. "Fine, I don't like you. I don't like how _perfect_ your eyebrows are, and how freaking pretty your _stupid_ face is. I _really_ don't like how you kissed Beca, let alone had _sex_ with her and I really _**really**_ freaking hate that you're here tonight, ruining mine and Beca's one month with your stupid good looks and pointless presence!" You slap a hand over your mouth to prevent you from saying anymore. Apparently, the dam has broken and caused your mouth to speak on autopilot without any thought process of the stuff you are saying and how Jade would take it.

This doesn't seem to be an issue, because even though out of nowhere you just _verbally_ admitted to everything you've been thinking in the past hour, Jade seems to find humor in it, somehow. You have no recollection of what you just said that was supposed to be funny, _persee_ , but it sure is a lot better to have her laughing than slapping you.

"I-I...didn't mean that," you stutter out nervously, fear only increasing at what Jade is going to do to you. That's the thing with quite thoughts-they're supposed to be for your ears and your ears _only_.

"Yes you did," Jade battles back with a wry smile; you're still trying to process the fact that she has _yet_ to pounce on you for what you just said and is instead _smiling-_ unless it's a smile before she kills you. "Kinda can make people tell the truth in any circumstances."

You gasp out loud, now feeling taken advantage of due to the fact you're the only semi " _normal_ " one in the bar right now and are unable to read people's minds, or make them spill their deepest darkest secrets.

"You do know Beca and I have nothing going on between us, right?" Jade asks skeptically, raising one of her perfectly sculpted brows up high pass her hairline.

Yes, you know there's nothing going on between them, but that doesn't stop your jealousy from arising whenever they hang out together. You're just a girl-a girl who has _crazy_ girl traits you can't control, just like any other girl suffering from evil eye syndrome.

"Yeah she's super fucking _hot_ …"

You bite your tongue not to snap at this, pop a few blood vessels not to scream something you'd regret. That is one way _not_ to make someone believe there's nothing going on between party A and B.

"But even if I wanted to try something, she's ways too sprung on you to try anything," she admits with shock, sort of looking like she doesn't believe it's possible. "All she can talk about is you-it's equally frightening as it is annoying."

"Really?" All the rage flushes out of your body and your eyes start to get misty.

"Oh God, don't cry on me," Jade warns sternly; you shake your head black and forth because just at the mention of crying, you feel your eyes start to weld with tears. You can't help it! You're a sensitive person and hearing all these sweet things that Beca does is your absolute _kryptonite_. "I've known Beca for a really long time and I have to say you are good for her. She's... _different_ now, but different in a good way. _Hell_ , she stopped smoking. I never thought she'd be able to do that."

It surprises you at first hearing something nice come off of Jade's mouth, but you eventually respond back. "Thank you."

"Plus, I totally have a thing with Luke," Jade comes out announcing with a smirk and it feels like she just told you-you won a million dollars. That's probably the best news you've heard all night.

"You guys look hot together." Which is true, not only because you want Jade to stay far away from Beca, but her and Luke are ridiculously attractive and would make gorgeous babies.

Would they still have a British accent?

Jade shakes her head with a laugh at the comment. "Okay, so now that we cleared up I don't want to bang your girlfriend anymore, we good?" You eye Jades outstretched hand, similar to how Beca greeted you earlier, but this time when you take it, you allow yourself to smile.

And this time it's genuine.

"We are good," you say for good measures and slowly feel the tension vanishing between you guys.

"Gail?" Jade asks when you points to the scar over your neck that's still pretty fresh. Same with the scar on your forehead. It's healing thanks to Beca and her powers, but nowhere near where it should be. At your nod, she continues, "honestly, I'm surprised you made it out of there alive."

"Thanks," You mutter under your breath, but also not really thankful. Guess her and Beca share the same lack of experience in the comfort department. "This whole thing is just... _crazy_." Which is just an understatement, really.

"You know you _could_ take care of one issue," Jade dangles, as if you should understand what she is talking about, but clearly she doesn't see that you're completely confused. "The whole... _virgin_ deal, that way Gail only wants to kill you, instead of kill you _and_ steal your heart."

"It's easier said than done," you mutter disgruntled. "The temptation is there, trust me, but the flame just dies out." Why you're finding it so easy to talk to one of Beca's past sexual partners, especially with this topic, is beyond you. On the contrary, though, you enjoy having another person to talk to about this; someone who _gets_ Beca.

Plus it's easier to talk to Jade now that you two have established she wants nothing to do with Beca, romantically or _sexually_.

"Kudos for you though, sticking it out this long with a girlfriend who has the physical looks of someone like Beca."

"Thanks, but I'm positive I'm seconds away from rupturing when I'm with Beca." You raise a brow, looking at Jade suspiciously with how easy it is to have a conversation like this when you barely know the girl and seconds ago _envied_ her. "You sure you aren't using your weird, _witchy_ powers on me to admit all this to you?"

"Promise," Jade chuckles as she pulls out a cigarette from behind her ear and offers it to you. "Listen, the time will come between you two, but for now, take a hit." You politely decline the offer, informing her that the last time you smoked a cigarette you hacked up a few organs. "Hun, this isn't a cigarette." _Oh_. "It's something to ease you up a bit, maybe some _green_ courage." She wiggles her eyebrows mischievously with the stick still caught between her fingers and up for grabs.

So you decide " _why the hell not,_ " and take the unlit joint before shoving it into your mouth. Jade does the honors of lighting the end and you coach yourself through the process, hoping not to embarrass yourself like the last time you smoked weed in front of a bunch of frat guys. You slowly inhale, filling your lungs with as much smoke they can hold and take an easy exhale out, successfully operating the task.

"Looks like I'm sure missing a party." Beca comes back; you feel her presence wrapping around your waist before you actually see her sneaking up behind you, voice hoarse and dark in your ear.

She steals the joint from your finger tips and takes a deep drag for herself, but instead of blowing it out towards the ceiling, she tilts your chin back so you two are now facing each other. In a smooth motion, she leans in as if she's going to kiss you, but just as your lips meet, she blows all the smoke caught in her mouth into yours, filling your lungs up for the second time tonight.

And now you're certain that this is the highest you've _ever_ been.

Eventually once you rid all the smoke from your body before you start to choke on it, Beca leans in again, but this time for a kiss; a kiss so heavy and lazy that it leaves you in the strongest daze ever experienced when the two of you seperate. A drawled out scoff is the main reason for the separation, as well as the reminder that you two aren't the only ones in this bar right now and in fact, have an audience standing right next to you.

"Okay, _wow_ ," Jade is frozen for a second, before she's shaking her head in disbelief and already making her way back to the bar. You are having a hard time focusing on anything except for Beca's face that's millimeters away from yours and that killer smirk she is wearing. "You two _definitely_ need to figure your shit out." Is yelled before she's out of sight, leaving you to chuckle in the palm of your hand once your daze wears off while Beca sports a puzzled glance.

"What was that about?"

"Nothing," you shake off the question with a lazy smile, already feeling the side effects, but unsure if it's because of the weed, or Beca's lips making you feel higher than a kite.

The lights around the bar start to dim before Beca can battle this, signaling that the band is about to hit the stage. She leads you to the side of the bar away from the massive crowd where there's a staircase that you two walk up, landing yourselves on a VIP ledge above the stage and where the rest of the group is at. Luke and Jade are taking shots once again; Stacie is wrapped around Aubrey from behind and they're sharing a few chaste kisses before gluing their attention onto the stage where the band members are starting to come out.

Beca finds a comfortable place beside you as you walk up to the railing next to Stacie and Aubrey, who greet you with two, twin, _megawatt_ grins that shows you their current levels of intoxication. With a hand wrapped securely around the dip of your lower back, you sigh contently when you feel fingertips tracing patterns over the dress material and lean your head over Beca's shoulder.

She makes it a point to hold your hand above the railing; a gesture so heart warming and comfortable that you feel more than content.

An intense drum solo blares through the venue; the monstrous bass vibrates through your chest and against the railing you have your hands on. Stage lights start to flicker along with the music and people on the ground level erupt with boisterous cheers, chanting " _Lynn_!" at the tops of their lungs for all of Atlanta to hear.

You notice the singer first, not just because she's extremely attractive with her half shaved head, one shaved eyebrows and _powerful_ voice, but also because she, as well, has a similar tattoo of the symbol making an appearance on everyone inside this bar on the back of her forearm as she plays the guitar. It's barely noticeable from where you guys are standing above stage, but the ink is dark enough to catch a glimpse of the similarity.

"Let me guess, _witch_?!" You yell this in Beca's ear over the music so she could hear you, but even then your voice is up against some pretty loud noises. Luckily, she hears you and this time moves her mouth over to your ear.

"Yep! _Crazy_ strong and damn good with a bow!"

"How do you know her?!"

"Other than working for my mom, I co-signed her! Been working with her for years now!"

As you two exchange going back and forth, yelling into each other's ear, the songs being played, causing everyone in the venue to jump along with the beat, sound vaguely familiar. Definitely songs you have heard of, but never gotten the chance to listen to, half because you don't feel like a girl like you would listen to something this intense, _rocky_ , and badass.

But the songs are great; Beca's music is always great.

"She's hot too!" Stacie yells out of nowhere as she sways to the music behind Aubrey who is shamelessly dancing along with her, referring to the lead singer who you'd have to completely agree with. "Everyone in this damn place is fucking _hot_!"

All of you share a laugh at Stacie's- _accurate_ \- observations and you sink in closer to Beca's embrace, soaking in the music and good company. And how for the first time in awhile you truly feel _safe_.

* * *

Backstage after the concert is a lot of talk about the current situation involving your sisters-the Bellas- and yourself. You explain everything from the very beginning to Lynn, Levon, Nash and three identical twins you happened to just meet, Rex, Rick and Roger, who you are _positive_ to mix up their names sooner or later. Lynn is small and delicate, like Beca, and _super_ friendly when you two meet, but she carries herself in an intimidating way, much like the rest of the crew here tonight.

You start with how many Bellas you, _roughly_ , think are roaming around Barden, which estimates around two hundred with all the pledges you remember from the rush.

This doesn't come off as a shock to the group due to the fact they've fought off a lot more than this, but the number still takes them off guard. You also clarify that guys around campus have gone missing, but you and Beca have found the witch nest deep inside Barden's deserted forest where they all are buried.

"All of the Bellas are under succubus rum right now, which makes them very promiscuous, which helps lure boys right into the trap." Everyone nods their hands at your little bit of information, familiar with Gail's tricks and potions she uses on her prey and admits to her being rather smart for starting the coven on a college campus where bewitching students is very easy.

"How hasn't this made national news yet? All the disappearances?" Lynn asks curiously when knowing that Barden isn't in a secluded city with a small population and would definitely have more people looking for whoever it is responsible for the kidnappings.

You've often wondered how everything has stayed a giant secret, but it makes sense when Beca explains that the whole town and campus are poisoned by Gail and Kommissar, sweeping it under the rug before it gets out to most of the country. There is, however, more and more attention brought to officials as the kidnappings start to increase over the span of a month.

"They're going to be hunting you like sharks, you know that right?"

 _Yes_ , you already knew this, but hearing it out loud from Lynn makes it seem worse. It's not like Gail was going to let you off easy, giving you only a slap on the wrist as you continue mustering up plans to take down her coven. Now that would just be _foolish_. Chances are they're out hunting for you as we speak, but Beca reassures you that her cabin is hidden in a place where they can't track you.

"The Bellas always host a _giant_ party the weekend of Halloween, usually under some type of theme. It's usually not that big of a party, due to the fact sororities can't host parties." You and Aubrey remember at the same time and she adds that there was talk beforehand that it would be masquerade. "But I guess everyone who's anyone is going to be there the night of the blood moon."

" _Yikes_ ," The same worried expression is shared around the group; you, by far, have the most worry covering your face, but that's because _yikes_ is never something you want to hear come from someone's mouth. Especially a witch hunter's. "That doesn't sound good."

"It's a distraction," Jade speaks up causally. "Gail has to get Barden away somehow so she could hold a giant sacrifice in the middle of the woods without any suspicion."

"We need to disrupt the Blood Moon Sabbath, kill Gail and Kommissar when they're their weakest-"

"What we _need_ is to get a hold of their wands," Beca intervenes, cutting Levon off. You, Aubrey and Stacie have _zero_ clue what's going on and really feel like this is a conversation way too complex for you all to handle and your presences are just pointless. "Chances are they'll have their wands the night of Halloween because their powers will be too weak."

"How? They have thirty guard dogs in the Bellas house." Luke carefully reminds. "It wouldn't be easy."

"None of this is going to be easy, Luke, but we have to try," Beca commands; her leader, authoritative voice coming out and you can't help but be entranced by it. "We have no other choice." To this, Luke nods his heads agreeing, same with the rest of the group who is struggling to think of a way to stop Gail before the whole world turns to shit.

Right now, a plan isn't set in stone, but at least the group has a gist of what's going on and are spilling useful ideas of how to destroy Gail and a Kommissar the night of Halloween. It gives you a little more hope that Beca, and whatever she decides to do will end in her favor, ending this whole thing so your life can return back to normal.

Though, now that you think about it, normal doesn't sound all that intriguing to you anymore. For Christ sakes you're dating a _witch_ , so anything normal that was in your life before is long gone now.

And you can't say that you have a problem with this.

Not at all.

For a while, you sit and listen to everything pitched in, answer any questions about the Bellas that you may or may not know, but mostly all of the conversation is _way_ over your head and is just making you more and more nervous about what's to come. You stay for Beca because listening to her talk so protective over you is extremely heart warming and also because she is rubbing your back while she talks about the situation and the feeling is just _heavenly_.

"We will figure something out, trust me," Beca says this to you with soft eyes and she says it so sincere that you have no other choice but to believe her.

"Well, while they're talking about the more _serious_ issue, let's talk about one thing." Jade pulls you, Stacie and Aubrey off to the side away from all the complicated witch talk and over to a secluded section backstage. "And that one thing happens to be Chloe's _deflowering,"_ she doesn't bother to whisper this even though the topic is rather inappropriate and incredibly _embarrassing_.

"Oh my God," You mutter to yourself, hands shoot to your temples to hide your face because you feel your cheeks starting to get hot when everyone's eyes light up. _Jesus_ , Jade and Stacie would be _great_ friends with their lack of a filter and notorious amount of crass comments.

How do you go from witch talk to your sex talk?

"Guys, just let it come naturally." Thankfully, Aubrey is your rock and tries to shine the spotlight off of you, but unfortunately, it doesn't work because Jade and Stacie are already brainstorming ideas.

Like they're trying to solve the world's most important mission.

"How do you feel about this, Chloe?" All eyes-thanks to Stacie-switch over to you and you can't even keep the gulp from happening.

Scratching at the back of your neck nervously and really seeing no way out of this question, you release a tired sigh. "I want to have sex with her," you admit out loud, not that it's news to anyone listening. Daring to take a glance at Beca for a moment, you admire all the raw beauty your girlfriend radiates with before returning your gaze back to Jade and the group. "She's just so...sexy and _ugh_!" You groan out frustrated. "I want to see what other music she can make with her fingers- _Goddamnit_ , Jade! Stop that!" You point accusingly to the witch-the one culprit behind you _actually_ admitting this out loud-howling in laughter as she waits for a high five from Stacie.

"Sorry you're being stubborn and I have to use _magic_ to get it out of you!" Stacie retorts breathlessly as most her energy is spent on cackling like a hyena.

Jade speaks up again once she calms her laughter, fingernails painted black shoot up to wipe the tears rolling down her cheeks. "You just need to get in some nice lingerie, play some music, light some candles and get _in_ that, Red!" she tries to pep talk you and it does the opposite of motivating you.

"Beca's going through a dry spell, so I could only _imagine_ how she would react."

This is news and it instantly steals your attention away from Beca to look for any signs on Stacie's face that could show she is lying.

But you find nothing.

"I can see it in her pinched face, all the sexual frustration building up and about ready to pop like a cork."

"How would you know?" You have to ask with a huff, unable to fully understand that Stacie is making assumptions about your girlfriend.

"Beca and I talk about this stuff all this time!" Stacie informs you as if this was a stupid question to ask, but you still can't bring yourself to believe anything she is saying.

Yeah, her and Beca have grown close with the small amount of time they've spent together; they're practically _sisters_ with their bond, but you know Beca. You know that Beca- the most guarded, uncomfortable person when talking about sex-would never openly talk about her sex life with Stacie, not even with a gun pointed to her head.

 _Jesus_ , can we take a second to remember back in time when you tried asking her for a _name._ Shit was harder than pulling teeth from a baby.

"Okay, not true. I _pried_ it out of her." Stacie corrects and that sounds a lot more accurate when she explains the trouble and effort she went through to get this out of the girl. "She wouldn't talk when I asked her about the hickeys you both woke up sporting around your necks like chokers."

 _Maybe there was a reason for that, Stacie,_ you think to yourself, rolling your eyes.

This is ridiculous.

"Here, I have something to give Ginge the little kick start she needs." Jade leaves the table to head to the bar and comes back with a clear bottle filled with, what you can imagine, _alcohol_. Only problem is that you have no idea what _kind_ of alcohol, which is more than a little terrifying when remembering this is a girl who prefers drinks called SnakeBite. "Sunset Rum." Jade reads off the label, showing the table the bottle she scavenged out from behind the bar.

 _Oh dear God._

"Isn't that like the _strongest_ rum?" Aubrey is a _hundred_ percent correct, which is why you're thinking of all the possible ways to flee the scene before Satan's death drink is handed your way. "No way! Chloe can barely handle _regular_ rum!"

"Hey," you whine, taking offense towards this, but knows she's right. Perhaps you're _a little bit_ of a lightweight when it comes to hard liquor, but all of that is about to change now. "Give it to me," your demand stuns the entire table-Aubrey being the most surprised, but Jade happily obliges, handing over the bottle without the cap.

Taking a whiff of the liquid you're about to drink is a giant mistake and may have possibly burned off all your nose hair by the strong stench of alcohol. You contemplate whether or not you made a mistake, asking yourself, " _is it safe to even drink?"_ as you read the label in search for any warning signs. Like, redheads with low tolerances and a weak stomach **stay away.**

But one glance at Beca chatting away with Lynn, the triplets, Nash, Luke and Levon, looking as irresistible as ever and you're bringing the bottle up to your lips, ready to burn away your esophagus in one swallow if it means a little liquid courage for something you've literally been _dying_ to do.

Your body almost rejects the liquor as soon as it touches your buds, but you choke it down in effort not to cause a scene and embarrass the living daylights out of you in front everybody who's cheering you on. Your body shoots a chill down your spine at the aftertaste which is almost strong enough to make you puke, and how it was a _god awful_ mistake not to at least have a chaser to help rid the layer of liquor covering the inside of your mouth.

Shots have never been your forte but suffer through them like any other college student. You enjoy sticking to beer and enjoy the taste even more-though it didn't start that way, but can thank Beca for the grown liking. Sunset rum, on the other hand, might be the worst thing you've ever put in your mouth.

And that's even after the Jager bombs Alice drowned you in the first mixer of college freshman year.

It's quite the story, but long story short, you don't really _remember_ most of the story, hence the hatred for jager.

But the sunset rum definitely kicks into your bloodstream in what feels likes _seconds_ after you took the shot, every hair on your body is raised with goosebumps covering every inch of skin to back this up.

This makes sense because an alcohol that strong should do these things, like, give you that extra push into the right direction when you hear Beca announce to the group that she is going to the restroom and will be back soon. With a little liquid courage in your stream, you feel like you could do _anything_ -which is why you, too, announce that you're heading to the restroom after minor contemplation.

Aubrey is the only one out of the group who pays any attention to your departure from the table; she sends you a wary look and you know she's not dumb. You know she's putting the pieces together-Beca going to the bathroom and you following her footsteps two seconds after, but her glare quickly turns mischievous, and she's throwing you a kittenish wink as a " _see you later."_

From there, the whole walk to the bathroom is a giant blur; you don't even blame it on the alcohol because honestly, you only had that fruity Hawaiian drink Beca got you earlier and a shot of moonshine. Drunk isn't how you'd describe yourself right now and tipsy doesn't even seem like a good description, either, to explain how fast you make it to the same bathroom Beca walked into because both would be very inaccurate. However, you do feel _confident_ -way more confident than you have ever felt before, which you can't say is necessarily a _bad_ thing.

When you push the swinging, wooden door open, you are instantly surrounded with a dark red hue from the lights, giving the entire restroom a nightclub _glow_ to it. Beca's looking at herself in the mirrors as she absentmindedly washes her hands in the sink; you don't understand why because Beca looks good all the time-literally, _all the time_ , even after killing witches- and also the lights in this room makes it impossible to see anything.

Again, things move as a blur when you see your girlfriend standing at the sink, who is unaware of your added presence joining her in the restroom until the door closes behind you and it catches her attention. All it takes for you to break is a _nanosecond_ of being thrown that _intoxicating_ , crooked smile of Beca's until you're moving on autopilot, strutting up to the girl with a purpose, pushes her away by the shoulders and slams her back into the wall.

It's when you see the look of shock, mixed with amusement, mixed with _lust_ in Beca's darkening eyes that sends you to crash your lips into hers, swallowing any forming words that might have swept her mind and for her to kiss you back, equally as aggressive. At first, you think the action might've been too rough, because even you can admit that Beca hit her back on the side of the wall pretty harshly, but how she dominates the kiss and pulls you in closer erases any and all sense of worry you may be having.

The wave of brazenness is _very_ new-very _unexpected_ coming from you, personally, but you can't help but appreciate that it came in clutch during a time like this. It also seems that Beca doesn't mind the sudden aggression, but in fact urges for more when her hands claw at your thighs, and doesn't seem to care when her fingers start to inch up the bottom of your dress that cling tightly to your skin.

And it doesn't stop there.

A breathy moan slips pass your lips into Beca's mouth when it's evident by the draft and the positioning of where Beca's hands are cupping over your thong that your dress has now slid up to a spot on your body that is sure to give an eye full to whoever walks into this bathroom.

But you can't seem to care less.

And luckily this part of the concert venue backstage is pretty secluded.

Your whole body is on fire and you know it's not from the alcohol, nor from the marijuana, but more so how Beca switches from swiping her tongue through your mouth to sucking _hungrily_ on your bottom lip, causing your knees to tremble and the throb between your thigh to become _unbearable_.

"I want you to take me back to your cabin," you seductively mumble this over Beca's lips before resuming to kiss her like your whole life depended on it, whimpering at the way Beca's hands fasten around your backside as she emits a low growl from deep within her chest. "I don't care about anything else-I just _need_ you."

Because if there is anything you learned throughout this hectic- _ **extremely hectic**_ \- day is that your life right now is on the line. You're being hunted by the most dangerous predators and don't know when, or _if_ you'll make it out of this thing alive. Today let you see your true feelings you had for Beca, which lead you to say " _I love you._ " and you found out she loves you back.

Today also showed you that you shouldn't take your time for granted, that at a blink of an eye, your time could be up.

And that is why, ladies and gents, you're _destined_ to lose your virginity to the girl you love because who knows when your time will run out. _Screw_ a white wedding where you'd wait for the time and have the most _romantic_ honeymoon that anybody could ever dream of because that just doesn't matter to you anymore.

There is no way those _bitches_ are going to take your life when you're still a virgin.

 **No. Way.**

Beca pulls away from the kiss, lips swollen and the blue in her eyes now replaced by black. She looks for any hesitation, or signs that you could be lying, but you're _positive_ she won't find any because you've never been so sure of something in your entire life.

And when she finds nothing, she straightens your dress back to normal before grabbing your hand, lacing her fingers in between yours and crushing the last bit of sanity you had left with _one_ of those smiles.

"Then let's go."

* * *

 **All I have to say for next chapter is… SEX… and also some action, but SEX.**

 **We've all been patiently waiting, I know. It's long overdue and it's another cliffhanger, but I'm sure you guys will enjoy it ;)**

 **Make sure to drop a review and I'll see you lovelies next time!**


	15. Chapter 15

**The reviews last chap...oh my stars GUYS I LOVE YOU ALL!**

 **Here's the next chapter;I know all of you were eagerly waiting, but it's here now! I spent a lot of time making sure to put you, as the reader, into Chloe's head and make it seem like you're there in the moment with her. So hopefully, I've succeeded in this want and you leave this chapter just as satisfied as our girl Chloe Beale ;) *wink wink***

 **Ps: it's been a hot second since I've written smut lol so be gentle**

 **Song: Lights Down Low by MAX feat. gnash**

 **(I DO NOT OWN PITCH PERFECT NOR THE SONGS MENTIONED)**

* * *

 **Chapter Fifteen: Bump N' Grind**

Admittedly, you wish there was no forty minute drive back to Beca's cabin- the exchanged "goodbyes," and walk out to the truck beforehand, because with all that free time, it allows your nerves to kick right back up again to the point where you're gnawing nervously at your lip to the point of breaking skin.

Despite the rather experimental life choices made tonight, you are slowly starting to sober up at a faster speed than you'd like from all the substances taken and Beca is still looking as _criminally_ sexy as ever when she chats with Stacie and Aubrey in the back seat, clueless as to what her hand on the inner part of your thigh is _doing_ to you.

The fact that she's remaining calm about this and engaging in conversation like nothing is about to happen the moment you walk into the cabin-unlike _you_ , who is seconds away from exploding with arousal- is not only something you _envy_ , but also something that doesn't make sense to you. How she can go from kissing you in a way a pornstar would feel dirty watching to arguing aimlessly about who's better; Nicki Minaj or Cardi B.

It's unbelievable.

Just like that crooked smile of hers she's been wearing that makes it _frustratingly_ **impossible** to focus on anything but the growing fire in the pit in your stomach.

Anytime you get the chance, you pitch in your two cents towards whatever music topic the gang happens to be arguing about, just to keep up your facade that you aren't seconds away from either shoving your tongue down your girlfriend's throat, or having a stroke from the increasing anxiety building inside you. For the most part, it seems to work; you almost forget about _everything-_ Beca's hands, her lips, her _tongue_ -and fall easily into conversation. Occasionally, you laugh at something witty Stacie has to say and giggle madly when Beca threatens to kick Aubrey out of the car when she uses her big brain of hers and flips the script to make Beca feel like an idiot.

And for once, you think you might make it out of this **excruciatingly** long drive back to the cabin _alive_.

That is until the hand placed on your thigh for majority of the trip slowly begins inching its way up your skin into the " _danger zone_ " that is **begging** for some type of attention and reminds just what this night is going to consist of. It doesn't stop there, however.

 _Of course, it doesn't_ stop there because this is Beca Mitchell you are talking about; the _only_ person who doesn't play by the rules. The _one_ person who you've discovered has a secret kink of some sort that finds it _thrilling_ to tease you. The _one_ person who already knows how you react to certain things and what to do to get the reaction she wants from you.

So it shouldn't shock you that-that same hand creeping its way up your leg sneaks under the brim of your dress, not advancing pass any more layers of clothing, _persee_ , but definitely rests **dangerously** close to a certain area on your body off limits for the time being.

And the positioning of her hand creates a plethora of emotions that hits you like a tidal wave to the gut all at once and all you can think when you find yourself defenseless is, _dirty move Mitchell._

 _In front of our friends?!_

"You good, Chloe?" Stacie asks from the backseat and you can hear the humor in her voice without even having to turn around to see the matching grin she's wearing. "You're as stiff as a board and making weird noises up there. Too much to drink?"

If it wasn't for the fact that if you were to even _flinch_ a muscle, you might combust, or possibly inch up that hand on your thigh even higher by accident-which is _screaming_ a disaster- you'd already be reaching in the backseat to smack Stacie upside the head.

It's even worse because she knows-her and Aubrey _both_ know what went down in the concert's bathroom when you and Beca both wandered out with your hair a mess, lips swollen and clothes skewed, so hiding anything in front of them is _impossible_.

At times like these, you really wish you had your cell phone to talk to one of them about the _sexual_ _crisis_ going on within your body this current moment.

You can see Beca stifling a smile-one of her evil smirks that drives you up a wall- but it's slowly poking out as you try to find a _semi_ comfortable position in the seat while your hormones drive you absolutely _insane_. Crossing your legs is your best possible bet here since doing so controls the excruciating throbbing going on between your thighs and closes the opening for where Beca's hand is resting.

You steal the hand with a mind of its own for yourself, lacing your fingers with Beca's and sets your conjoined hands _above_ your legs, releasing a relieving sigh as the tension leaves your body. It is a far safer position to make it the rest of the way back to the cabin-you mindlessly playing with Beca's rings and fingers, tracing over the pair of headphones tattoo on her inner wrist while she talks- because so far the drive back feels like it's taking a year and a half.

Seriously, can there be anymore traffic on a Thursday night?

And you swear to _God_ if Beca hits _**one**_ more red light, you will scream in sexual frustration until you pop a vocal cord.

Eventually after all the torture, Beca's Cadillac pulls into a familiar scenery before she's parking the truck outside of her cabin, joining the collection of her other cars she has going on. Cooly, you muster up some lame excuse that you need to talk to Stacie and Aubrey _privately_ about some "girl business" and Beca doesn't even bat a lash at this. Instead, she respects the need to talk alone with the other two, but not without making sure you're okay.

And when you assure her that everything is fine- _more_ than fine, it seems to be enough.

"I'll be waiting for you inside," is what Beca leaves the truck with, muttering this quietly to you and, _maybe,_ you are on the verge of having a stroke, because something so harmless shouldn't of sounded as sexy as it did.

It doesn't help that before she leaves, she plants a far longer kiss than expected over your lips, grazing her tongue just barely over the skin, but nonetheless does it _not_ leave you breathless, panting mess stuck in a haze in the passenger seat when she pulls away.

"Dear God, if you're up there, please be a guardian for this poor, innocent friend of mine, and help her make it through tonight so she won't end up dying before her _extremely_ sexy, witch hunter girlfriend has the chance to pop her cherry and take her virginity," Stacie says all of a sudden, palms and fingers clasped together, eyes closed and head pointed to the roof of the truck, as if she is really praying at a moment like this.

You're still trapped in a common occurring, post kiss daze you often find yourself stuck in whenever you get a taste of Beca, so if it wasn't for the inability to properly think straight- _literally_ \- you would've smacked the _bejesus_ out of Stacie.

And **for real** this time.

But you don't; you barely even register anything, let alone Stacie making fun of you in the backseat, because all you can think about is Beca's lips and how she knew just what to do to have you wanting _more_.

Which you're about to get the second you walk through the front entrance of the cabin and the realization is nerve wracking.

" _Oh my God!_ " Stacie squeals excitedly into her hands the very moment Beca is out of the truck and walking inside the cabin. You whip your neck around so fast to look at the girl causing so much noise which isn't helping anything that you might have tweaked something. She continues babbling as her hands flail erratically. "Bree, you're looking at a pure, innocent little caterpillar and tomorrow, she'll be a beautiful, glowing _butterfly_!"

Ignoring this picture Stacie strangely painted inside her head, your eyes stretch wide at the thought of what you have to do next to become this " _butterfly_ ," and you clap a hand over your mouth. All the kissing, and the _other_ kissing happening in _other_ places on yours and Beca's body. "I think I might throw up," you warn to your friends under your palm, not fully serious, but the temptation is still there by the somersaults your stomach is doing. "But also, I'm so _ready_ for this."

"Yeah you are," Stacie gushes, still overly excited and seems to be more eager for this night to continue than yourself. You think she may even cry tears of joy by the shimmery glint added to eyes. "This is such a proud mom moment," she reaches for Aubrey's other hand for sympathy, but only gets an eye roll in return.

"Okay, take down the dramatics a bit, _both_ of you," Aubrey nudges Stacie in the stomach with her elbow; a cue to start taking this conversation a hell of a lot more seriously, which, like, _thank you._ "This is a... _huge_ moment for, Chloe."

"No shit!" Stacie snorts a laugh. "It feels just like yesterday she was googling porn and touching herself in Beca's bed."

Heat immediately shoots up to your cheeks at the comment, mostly because, _wow_ , you actually had the nerve to do something like that and also how incredibly _mortifying_ that moment was for you. Covering your blushing face, you contemplate whether or not this was a smart idea to stay and talk, because so far the conversation is just _traumatizing_.

Aubrey senses your growing panic and orders Stacie to knock it off, gripping your forearm for some sort of comfort. "Just relax, Chlo," she tells you in a soothing voice that actually does a lot more than you expected. At least now your face doesn't feel like you got a pie to the face full of molten hot lava. "You and Beca just... _click_ , I don't know how to explain it, but she treats you better than anyone I've ever seen you date and tonight isn't different. Just... _relax_ , breathe, and everything will be perfect."

Not like you've been desperately trying to do this the whole car ride back, but keeping a normal breathing pattern and staying relax when next to a person like Beca is downright _impossible_. She does things to you, _unimaginable_ things that you just can't really comprehend and it's not like it's her fault. If anything, it makes you love her even more that she's so humble about being the _sexiest_ female on the planet and can turn you on like a light switch without even breaking a sweat.

"What if I mess up?" You mumble weakly, lowering your head in shame. "I don't know what the Hell I'm doing."

"And you think Beca does?" Aubrey asks calm, not pushing this and you thank her because you're fragile right now. Actually, _yes_ , you do think Beca does know what she's doing because unlike you, she doesn't have **virgin** stapled to her forehead. "She doesn't know your body-every girl is different. That's why the first time is so special because you _both_ are learning new things about each other and, yeah, it could get awkward or messy and be a complete shit show, but it could be the best time of your life."

Stacie eagerly nods her head with a grin splitting her face; she couldn't of said it better herself. "Sex where you can laugh and trust your partner is the _best_ kind of sex, trust me." The hand tangling with Aubrey's doesn't go unnoticed by you and if it were at any other time, you'd ask about what all _that_ meant. The gushy glances and matching _love-y dove-y_ smiles they're both wearing tell you something is definitely up.

But you save the suspicions for another time.

A time where you _aren't_ about to walk straight into that cabin where your girlfriend just entered and have sex with her like you've been dying to do for ages. There's too much endorphins and oxytocins coursing through your body to focus on anything other than your girlfriend.

"Are you sure you want to go through with this?" Aubrey has to make sure and you eagerly nod your head faster than she can get the question out.

"I know more than anything," you declare, not a hitch or hesitation in your voice. "She's the one for me; my breath of fresh air, soulmate, knight in ragged leather. I couldn't imagine giving myself up to anyone _except_ for Beca."

Aubrey and Stacie share a glance at each other then simultaneously gush a high pitched " _awh_ ," and you can't help but roll your eyes despite the fluttering in your chest.

"Okay, checklist!" Stacie chirps, silencing through the silence. "I'm not going to go heavy into the details because I'm sure you're going to do great, sweetie, but are you well groomed?" You look at the taller girl sideways, unsure of what she's asking because it sounds like she's talking about a dog. Aubrey seems to be puzzled by this, as well, so at least you aren't the only one. Sensing the confusion between the two of you, she continues to explain. "you know... _down_ _there_?" And she finishes this off with a gesture over the lower extremities on her body.

Aubrey's jaw hits the floor at the clarification, but you remain aloof to Stacie's crass comments and tendency to throw herself over the line by certain things she says. You let her know that everything is well... _groomed_ and there's nothing to worry about in that department. She then goes on about the tips and tricks she's mentioned to you in the past and you wave them off, claiming to remember each and every one of them.

And also because you don't want to relive the embarrassment of hearing about nipple foreplay and other dirty- _so very dirty_ sexual terms you wished not to know the meaning of.

"Okay, you should go," Aubrey says as the group of you step out of Beca's truck when she cuts Stacie off from asking anymore personal questions. "Don't want to keep your lady waiting too long."

"I'd be surprised if she hasn't started already-" If there was anything Stacie had left to say, it gets cut off by a swift smack to her gut by the back of Aubrey's hand. The glare she gets from the blonde, as well, tells her not to continue on with whatever she has left to say, so she reroutes and her voice spikes back up in excitement. "You know what, never mind. I can't believe this is actually happening!"

You roll your eyes at Stacie's dramatic gushing and how she's acting like you're her daughter and she's about ready to send you off to college a couple thousand miles away without any plans to return back home. She even admits that the temptation to cry is present and how she explains to Aubrey that, " _they grow up so fast_ ," and you honestly can't help but snicker at this.

"Well, go get your girl." Aubrey orders with one of those twins smiles full of pride her and Stacie are sporting. "We will have girl talk tomorrow."

You happily agree to the offer and drag a piece of hair behind your ear before asking, "what are you guys going to do tonight?" You're curious due to the fact that it's not necessarily _late_ , and if it were the other way around, you wouldn't want to be trapped in the cabin while the two were going at it.

Unfortunately living with thirty girls at the Bellas house, you've been accustomed to their rather _vocal_ late night booty calls.

And you can't say you've fully recovered from it, either.

"Walk by the lake? Skip some rocks?" Aubrey suggests to Stacie and reaches down to thread their fingers together and it's so darn cute seeing them like this. "We can go in, change into warmer, more appropriate walking clothes and make some cocoa?"

Stacie seems to be all for the idea and warns Aubrey they should probably get a move on changing before certain noises that are _destined_ to scar them for life are screamed throughout the cabin. You separate from the two after wishing for them to have a good night and it's quickly returned during the walk down the hallways, but there's a flirty wink from Stacie when saying it just as she heads into the guest room with Aubrey before closing the door.

"Dorks," you say to yourself, shaking your head with a light chuckle.

Figuring that it's now or never and making sure your appearance is _somewhat_ presentable, you head for Beca's room, praying to God that she hasn't started yet now that Stacie's words haunt your every step.

Upon entering the room and making sure to close and _lock_ the door, "Hey, baby," Beca coos to you in a soft voice that makes it feel like your heart just fell down seven flights of stairs and exploded. And _luckily_ , she hasn't started yet. "Have a nice talk?" You know she's taunting you, but you decide to ignore the feelings of your stomach doing somersaults when she throws you that deathly crooked smile of hers from the other end of the room where she's playing with her jewelry.

By now, Beca has discarded her leather jacket, leaving her only in the tight black tank top underneath. It's slightly raised around her waist line, partly showing either side of her hip bones, but either way, she is still wearing her sex appeal like a millionaire. Coyly biting your bottom lip at the image, you kick off your heels and make way for the girl beckoning you from the distance by a single glance.

Making it there, you notice a plate of limes cut up nicely next to an unopened bottle of Patron Tequila Silver and two individual shot glasses sitting on Beca's drawer-the _smoothest_ tequila to drink by far.

And also happens to by the most tolerable, thus being your favorite.

"Took a while, but I finally got you your tequila and lime." Beca gestures down to the display; you can already smell the citrus from the limes, feel the burn in your throat just by looking at the bottle and your body automatically shivers when you imagine the familiar taste hitting your taste buds. "Want one?"

You really appreciate the route Beca is taking here-your _sanity_ and _well being_ really appreciates it, that's for sure. Any forwardness without a build up to what you guys had going in the restroom a while ago would've put you into anaphylactic shock, you think. Kidding, you're _positive_ you would've been in shock. Then you _really_ wouldn't of been able to experience any of what you have planned tonight-which wouldn't be good because waiting any longer might just end up killing you.

"Or I'm sure I could find a joint in here somewhere-we could take a few hits of that instead."

She pretends to scavenge around the around, tapping over her jean pockets and you roll your eyes at Beca's teasing, keeping it to yourself that even without weed, just being around her presence makes you feel higher than you've ever been before.

Beca takes your wrist and examines the scars from the rope before placing a lingering kiss over the marks. Salt gets poured on next from a fancy shaker to an area where Beca slowly and _purposefully_ licks, wetting the skin before dabbing out the crystals of salt.

And you just stand back and watch, mesmerized by this extraterrestrial human being you're lucky enough to call your girlfriend.

The same process is done for Beca; she pours the salt on the inside of her wrist, hands you a slice of lime and pours you both a shot that's evenly matched. You're more than eager to take the shot, hoping that your best friend _tequila_ will tone down the nerves and give you back that extra confidence you need to _wow_ Beca tonight.

Since, of course, that's the main goal of the evening.

And also not make a complete _fool_ out of yourself.

Which you end up doing _anyway_ once you guys cheers to, " _us_ ," after Beca announces this while clinking the top of your shot glass and when you go to take the shot, you miss your mouth entirely, leaving some of the liquid to dribble out of you mouth in the _least_ sexy way.

 _Not make a fool of yourself tonight, Beale._ _That'd be nice, too._

 _Do you want to lose your v-card or not?_

With the lime caught in between your teeth, you mumble out for a napkin, or towel to dry up your mess as the citrus from the lime tries to subside the burning sensation. Beca's chuckling at you in a way that doesn't make you feel like an idiot, but instead an _adorable_ idiot, who is still able to pull out a contagious laugh from the girl.

"I don't have either of those, but I have something else that might do the trick."

You don't have time to tell Beca that literally _anything_ will be fine if it cleans up the mess, (the alcohol and your self esteem) because one moment she's laughing at you at an arm's reach away after expertly taking the shot without it phasing her, and the next she's using her own tongue to clean up the mess.

And your eyes immediately dart to the back of your skull at the unexpected, but nonetheless _pleasant_ sensation that is _so_ much better than a napkin.

From your collarbones, up your neck, up your chin, and around your lips, Beca licks the trail in a _painfully_ slow motion while every now and then emitting a low, seductive chuckle into your skin. And now being at a reasonable height without your heels on, you notice the blue in her eyes starting to fade away when she looks at you.

 _Of course_ , you only catch this change in color for a split second until that trail Beca has taken up your neck takes a detour straight for you lips, capturing them in a lazy and slow kiss, making you forget her eye color, what your first name is, and your _entire_ point of existence other than kissing the living daylights out of this girl in front of you.

"I fucking _hate_ the taste of tequila," Beca mumbles this across your lips, but her tongue sneaks a kitten like lick, teasing you by the smirk you feel curving up and she tastes like tequila, with a hint of sour and a dash of whiskey. Regardless, it's intoxicating on a whole other level. "But _God_ , I fucking **love**...the taste of you."

You swoon and whimper at the same time, hopefully both weren't too noticeable that Beca could've seen. _Get yourself together! Don't you dare break, Beale!_

"Oh you haven't tasted anything yet, baby." You surprise yourself when saying this; the flirty brazenness you felt earlier at the concert slowly making its way back into your bloodstream, all thanks to the alcohol. _Thank you, tequila._

For the first time, like, _ever_ , since the moment you met Beca, you hear an audible hitch to her voice at your sexual innuendo, which, come on, is the biggest accomplishment _yet_. The grips around your waist tightens and there is still a small gap between both of your guys lips, but you can feel the puffs of air and how Beca's breathing starts to pick up, becoming more labored.

So it's feeling this; Beca's slightly parted lips panting over yours that causes you to come to a rather hasty decision. "I want...to have... _sex_ with you," you breathe into Beca's mouth; it comes out shaky, but honestly you've never been so sure. "Like, tonight, in your flannel bed sheets, _preferably_ more than once and there's nothing that could change my mind." So you have to make sure Beca knows this. Although it comes out a little _intense_.

Beca chuckles darkly into your mouth and finally closes the little bit of distance separating you two, landing a chaste kiss over your lips. A kiss different from the first, different from the last, but a kiss that never ceases to amaze you.

"Sounds like a _great_ idea, and lucky for you, I just washed my sheets," Beca finally agrees as she pulls her face away from yours after what felt like years and it takes a while for your eyes to adjust to the lights after having them closed for so long. "But are you sure?" You're unsure why she has to ask this if your body language and dire _need_ for this to happen in your voice has anything to back up how sure you really are. "Once you get... _all up in this_ , there's no chance of getting rid of me."

You lean your head back and howl a laugh when Beca gestures around her body, specifically her lower regions and wiggles her eyebrows suggestively over a wolfish grin.

"I'm like a leech, babe."

"I'm sure that won't be a problem," you retort back playfully, unable to wipe the grin off your face, partly because Beca's hands have a protective grip along your hips."We will take it slow, right?"

Beca nods her head immediately. "Of course."

"Because I have no idea what I'm doing," you stare at Beca deadpanned, hoping she knows just how serious you're being. "Literally, _zero_ idea."

"I'll teach you, don't worry."

And you don't worry, not once, because Beca has taught you how to shoot a gun, so one could say that she's a _fabulous_ teacher.

"Sorry it's not romantic, like in the movies with all the candles and rose petals laid out in the shape of a heart and all that other bullshit."

"Oh I don't care about all of that," you wave off to the side, sliding your hands from her shoulders down her arms, down to her elbows and landing them in her own hands. Maybe before you met Beca, you'd have some sort of " _standards_ " when it came time to losing your virginity-the cheesy gestures, roses, candles, white sheets, and dorky love songs, but all you need is Beca.

And now that you have her, nothing else in the whole world can make this moment any more perfect than it already is.

"We have tequila, your flannel sheets, the aftermath of a two hits of marijuana and Aubrey and Stacie are out at the lake. That's _more_ than enough."

This sparks interest in Beca and it causes her already growing smirk to grow larger. "Oh, so we have the whole cabin to ourselves?"

"Sure do," you affirm with a curt head nod, pressing your pelvic bone into Beca's. "Well, at least a hour or so until they come back. They still kinda need to sleep here."

"Unfortunately," is Beca's audacious joke back, unlacing her fingers from yours and using her hand to gently nudge you back by the stomach in the direction of her bed. "Can't say I'll be done with you in an hour, however."

You swallow _hard_ when Beca's hand pushing you back descends to the lower part of your stomach just under your belly button, your mouth resembling sand paper at this point.

The backs of your knees come in contact with the mattress, sending you to collapse on your butt and scoot up the bed so Beca could follow, however, she doesn't follow, but instead takes a few moments to admire your form propped up on top of the bed by your elbows, hair flipped up over your head and just _daring_ her to follow you the rest of the way. Brows knitting together in thought, she places her forefinger over her pursed lips, as if she's trying to crack a difficult code, or solve a sudoku.

"You're so damn sexy I honestly don't understand how it's possible-and I'm a damn _witch_ for fuck sakes," is all she comes up with once cracking the code.

"What can I say, I'm pretty confident about... _all this._ " Purposely exposing more of your cleavage, you shimmy your shoulders to Beca, biting your bottom lip not to smile too large and ruin this whole sexy image you have going on. "Being a natural redhead with blue eyes and what not."

Beca shrugs her shoulders agreeing, but doesn't make any effort to join you on top of the bed and stays standing, continuing to stare at you. You hate to say it, but this whole separation between the two of you makes it impossible for any inappropriate touching to take place, which is starting to become _unbearable_ now that you've had some alcohol to ease the nerves.

"You going to stand there and gawk at me all night or are you going to take my dress off?" you taunt devilishly, loving the way Beca has to fight the urge to whimper at the sight of you crossing your legs over each other. You could see it by the tightening in her jaw and threatening glint casting over her eyes that, _yeah_ , you'll probably regret saying that.

"Oh trust me, your dress is coming off," Beca reminds you bluntly and though you started this whole teasing banter, you didn't expect the bag of bricks to hit you straight in the gut at the confirmation. "But I gotta mix something real quick."

You want to ask if Beca's being serious, especially during a time like this, but you soon get your answer when Beca heads over to her desk area where all her fancy turntables and beat pads are glowing in different LED colors. You have no other choice but to follow in tow due to curiosity, wondering why the Hell music has the upper hand here when you're literally laying on top of Beca's bed, giving yourself up for her to do _whatever_ she pleases to you.

You even gave her a wiggle of your boobs and _still_ music outbeat the goods.

Clicking over to fancy software, "I wanna show you something," Beca tells you as she fiddles around with all the confusing technology that is brought up on her large MacBook screen for you to stare at and attempt to understand what's happening.

There's way too much going on for you to follow, but you keep your eyes glued to the screen where there's a deck on display with two twin vinyls that looks pretty similar to Beca's hands on one which is now flashing in colors.

"Also, there may not be candles and roses, but I have the _best_ playlist for tonight." Beca does some more tinkering around with the knobs and dials, connecting her desk speakers to the computer screen and cueing a few tracks that cause the vinyls to start spinning.

As you wrap your arms around her waist from behind, you get lost in her movements that seem to only be _amping_ your arousal even higher as she gets lost in what she does best. You place a few feathered kisses gently over the pink lotuses tattoo at the back of her shoulder, all the way up the back of her neck once you move her hair aside and out of the way to continue the trial up towards the spot behind her ear.

Briefly, Beca pauses from the sensations you're distracting her with to lean her head back, giving you better access to nip at the skin until she resumes back to the task at hand. Suddenly, a perfectly executed mashup of 112's "Peaches & Cream" and Akon's "I Wanna Fuck You" blares through Beca's speakers, the vibration from the bass hitting you in the gut at first before Beca's voice singing along with the lyrics takes away the wheel, leaving you a trembling mess from behind.

Despite the immediate heat resurfacing throughout your body, you end up laughing, just because you can't help it when Beca turns around in your arms and has this sort of ridiculous _swagger_ glowing across her features as she serenades you with the vulgar lyrics, " _I see you windin' n' grindin' up on that pole. I know you see me lookin' at you, and you already know. I wanna fuck you, fuck you."_

Then as the mash up transitions over, she's singing something about ice cream and, " _girl you are tasty; know what I mean, peaches and cream"_ before telling you she's blanking on the rest of the song, but mumbles something along the lines of wanting to taste it in the morning like peach cobbler, which makes you laugh even harder.

"Such a charmer," you shake your head continuing to giggle, ignoring how Beca's low, husky voice singing along seems to have quite the impact on you functioning properly. "We aren't having sex to a song I use to have on my walkman and played in middle school." Though you had no idea back then what the lyrics even meant; you just thought it was about eating dessert for breakfast.

Oh you naive child.

" _Mmm_ , that makes it even hotter," Beca murmurs dangerously close to your lips as she leans in. "I have another one I wanna play for you." As if she had the next song on cue, she taps the space button on her keyboard without having to look and the next vocalist you hear through the speakers is young R. Kelly at his prime.

Then Beca's singing again.

" _My mind is telling me no, but my body...my body's telling me yes. Baby, I don't want to hurt nobody. But there is something that I must confess….I don't see nothing wrong, with a little bump and grind."_

It's hard _not_ to enjoy this; Beca singing dirty songs to you that surprisingly lightens the mood and makes it less intimidating for you, even with her grinding entrancingly over the front of your dress. Though you _love_ her voice and could spend _hours_ listening to Beca serenade you with sex songs, and ogle at the way she dances, you wrap your arms around her neck and kiss her quiet. You kiss her softer and without any tongue at first, wanting to savor the feeling of her lips molded against yours that pushes you to get farther this time.

Beca's hand finds the zipper on your dress and you can only think to yourself, " _it's about damn time"_ when the piece of clothing is slipped off your body and pooled onto the ground around your feet. Knowing there's new skin flaunting out in the open, Beca tears her face away from the kiss and steps back, making sure your full frame is in view for her to admire.

"I-I...just," Beca stammers disbelievingly and perhaps if it were anyone else, you'd feel slightly uncomfortable being half naked and under such an intense glare, but now, and seeing the effect you have on Beca only boosts your confidence. Shaking her head in a mixture of disbelief and admiration, " _How_?"

"Pilates and running," you answer Beca simply with your own smirk, though she doesn't even see it because her attention is glued to the red lingerie set you have on and the newly exposed skin she looks up and down.

"You have a _banging_ body."

"Thanks, baby. Can't wait to see yours." _Loving_ the attention, but wanting to speed things up a bit, you push yourself away from Beca and find yourself laying back on top of her freshened up, neatly folded flannel sheets, the bass from the music still loud enough to vibrate against the mattress.

Sending off a coy smile at your dumbfounded girlfriend while she eats away the last bit of material covering your body, you command her to, "strip for me," in a demanding tone, even when Beca asks if you're being serious and you only nod your head. "Come on, DJ," you press innocently, biting your lip and feigning innocence. "Show me what I'm working with."

And Beca _does_ eventually after a few seconds of contemplation.

She crosses her arms and hooks her hands at the brim of her tank top before peeling it up _slowly_ over her head, leaving her clad in a black, lacy bra that amples her cleavage up in a way that makes you whimper. You soak in the ripples of muscles, the paleness and attempt to take a _bazillion_ mental images of how _goddamn_ sexy your girlfriend is for you to keep for your own personal references.

"Jeans." Though Beca's jeans are the tightest pair she owns and hugs all of her curves _deliciously_ , you really want them off. So you order them off with your finger circling the air down towards the denim.

Without breaking eye contact, Beca, smug-looking and all, unfastens her belt about the same speed she took her tank top off; the sounds of the metal buckle clinking together pools your arousal between the apex of your thighs and for a split second, you think to yourself whether or not having your incredibly sexy girlfriend strip for you was a smart idea.

During the process of mesmerizing every inch of skin Beca's new appearance had to offer, she walks over to where you're laying transfixed, pushes at your sternum and follows you down to lay on top. Now fully aware that Beca is half naked and caught in the space between your legs-her front pressed up against yours where hot skin meets hot skin, and her face so close you can feel her breathing, you collide your mouth onto hers. She kisses you back, equally as forceful and you find yourself quick to submit. The kiss is desperate and needy and driven off of pure desire that you've only ever felt until now, _this_ moment with Beca.

But you want more.

You need to _feel_ more

And you sense this is a mutual feeling when Beca starts to deliberately grind her pelvic bone against the area between your legs where she's situated, turning all and any forming thoughts you have in your head to mush. Words get transformed into pants, then moans, then to shaky whimpers every thrust until they turn to giggles, which is clearly unanticipated.

You never expected to be laughing as much as you have been so far tonight when Beca and you are making out, half naked on her bed sheets while listening to _raunchy_ sex music. The first time you break away from the heated liplock is when you try to rest your hands on the dip of Beca's lower back, but the moment your fingertips land on those dimples, she yelps a high pitched noise into your mouth, stating that, "your hands are _freezing_ , dude!"

And you laugh if off because you just heard the girliest noise come out from her mouth, and also because she, _yet again_ , called you "dude" when the two of you are deep within foreplay, kissing _heavily_ and though this should be, it's not embarrassing.

The second time you laugh is when you get sick of the lace on Beca's bra rubbing against your chest ( _it's itchy and unpleasant_ ) so you decide to hook a finger underneath the clasp, but end up snapping the elastic part of the bra against Beca's bare back.

After squealing another uncharacteristic noise into your mouth by the surprise snap to her skin, she teases you and asks if that really just happened, but she knows it did by the red mark on her back, probably. This time you both share a laugh in the kiss; your teeth scrape together and it's all around messy and you _should_ feel humiliated.

But again, it's not embarrassing.

And because of this, you don't feel like digging yourself a hole and laying in it for the rest of your life when you openly admit to Beca mid kiss that you cannot, _for the life of you,_ unhook her bra after many failed attempts.

So she has to do it herself.

In your defense, the only bra you had to take on and off has been your _own_ , not someone else's, which is why it's so difficult. You blame it on the alcohol, though, you're not even _buzzing_ , but in fact drunk on something-or should you say _someone_ else- and the fact that she decided to wear the most complicated bra on the planet for tonight. And doing it _blindly_ , in the middle of _kissing_ where most your attention is focused on _doesn't_ make it any easier.

You pull away with a huff of frustration. "I expected some simple, Calvin Klein underwear and stuff. What kind of lesbian are you?" is your excuse accompanied with a pout when Beca sits up on her knees and reaches behind her back to unhook her bra.

"A lesbian who's Calvin Klein sets are all dirty and had to opt for lace instead," Beca retorts back, her crooked smile the _largest_ and most effective it's ever been on you. She flips all of her hair over to one side of her body, making it easier to unhook the clasp and a motion sexy enough to put you into a coma.

Or so you thought until that piece of lace is being pulled down the lengths of Beca's arms and thrown mindlessly to one side of the room and you're certain your entire respiratory system malfunctions.

"Oh... _my_ ," you can't help but slip this out at the sight of Beca, now _topless_ , hair thrown over her shoulder and looking down at you with a glint to her eyes that rips your insides to shreds. You've seen many boobs on television, by accident while living in a house full of thirty other girls and, _of course,_ your own, but Beca's, "oh _wow_."

The sight is _glorious_ and has quickly made its way up to the top of your vision board, but it gets even better when Beca takes one of your hands laying flaccid against your thigh that weighs as if it's a hundred pounds and moves it up to her now nude chest.

But your hand doesn't move, makes no effort to do _anything_ now that your palm is grasping against the warm flesh that so happens to be a perfect fit, you think, and you can feel the nub hardening underneath your grasp that coils your stomach with heat.

You're transfixed at the sight as you take your time admiring; the instant goosebumps, the lone freckle on the inner part of Beca's left breast. It's a sight worth a thousand words, despite the rather _huge_ issue that is you have no clue how to progress from here.

"What do I do?" It's barely audible and sort of pathetic, but Beca hears you loud and clear, offering you a reassuring smile that makes you feel a different type of way when she cups the side of your face and her thumb drags back and forth against your cheek.

Just like she said she would, she coaches you through it, telling you to base your movements off the sounds she makes, which is surprisingly easy once you defrost your hands and can move them once again. She gives you encouraging smiles and it shows in the way she kisses you every now and then when you start to show hesitation.

There's a position change for you to be more comfortable, Beca insists. She lifts up one of her knees off the bed before placing it on the other side of your thigh and repeating the motion to her other knee until they're placed on either side of your waist and she's straddling your lower half. The view of her naked torso cupped in your hands on full display

You find out soon with practice the areas that make Beca react a certain way and where she's most sensitive. Like, when you rotate her nipples in between your forefingers and thumbs and you watch her chin collapse into her chest, the flutter in her eyes and how her breathing starts to pick up until barely audible whimpers slip pass her mouth.

Or when you get use to the feeling of Beca's breasts- _both_ of them- and you take turns between squeezing and kneading them until you feel comfortable enough to lean up and lick slow, languid circles around the sensitive skin. This earns a different reaction from the first; both of Beca's hands snake their way into your hair, fisting a handful of it that seems to become tighter and tighter every lick.

She tells you _exactly_ where it feels good and encourages you to go faster or slower. When she orders for you not to stop in almost a whine, her pleas fragile and raspy, you're sure she could make you do anything in that voice.

And you use this reaction to your advantage, feeling more and more confident by the breathless sounds you're receiving from Beca to the point where you switch from licking to biting, nipping along the skin and absolutely _loving_ the way Beca's lower half starts a slow, rhythmic grind that only increases the tension in your stomach.

A movement far too familiar, she pushes you away by placing a hand at your sternum, but doesn't allow you to fall all the way back down into the sheets just yet. Instead, she snakes her hand around to your back and in a far _smoother_ motion than all your attempts, she unclasps your bra in a single try. An unintentional gasp slips when the immediate chill hits your newly exposed skin and Beca wastes no time before marveling at the _two_ growing peaks.

"I uh…" Beca starts, but fails to find anything else to say when discarding your bra the same way she did hers and ends up closing with a, " _wow_ ," to prove just how speechless she has become at the sight.

Everything the two of you have done in the past before tonight has involved some sort of coverage. Whether it was a shirt, jacket or bra, there has been clothing there to cover up the good stuff, which is most likely why once these pieces of clothing are gone, the two of you are equally as speechless.

"Like what you see, _Mitchell_?" You ask teasingly when it looks like Beca's attention is too focused on your breasts to say anything at all.

"I don't like it," Eventually, Beca responds back to you after she's done gawking at your skin and it's not what you expected to hear, but she soon tosses you a smile that screams she's up to no good. "I _love_ it."

You giggle at the unexpected song lyrics and is seconds away from finishing them up, but it seems that Beca has other plans. Plans that involve her hands cupping the underside of your breasts and pushing you the rest of the way down into the sheets before it's her lips sucking away any forming word right out from you.

And it feels good.

So good it _hurts_.

Though you performed the same movements as Beca and praise yourself for performing them with ease, you can immediately tell Beca has done this before, not that you're complaining, _persee_. All it takes is one touch-one image of Beca suctioning her lips around your nipple, swiping her tongue in deliberate small circles and you're a melted, _moaning_ puddle on the sheets with your back arched up in the air.

"Feels good?" Beca says this so quietly that if it wasn't for the vibration of her words against your chest where her lips are at, you wouldn't of even known she said anything at all.

You assure her with a shaky " _mhmm_ ," good only being an understatement to how your body is reacting. How you _know_ the underwear you're wearing is basically _ruined_. What makes it even better, skyrocketing your hormones up even higher is how she takes the time to ask and make sure you're enjoying how she's treating your body. Making sure you're _comfortable_ with everything she is doing to your body.

Your hands find their way through Beca's hair, crowning the chestnut color at the top of her head and pulling her closer into your body, if at all possible while you start to slip soft, barely audible moans into the air. The sensation given by Beca's mouth is _way_ better than you could have ever imagined it being, except for the fact "Peaches  & Cream" starts playing again on Beca's computer, which is definitely a no go for you.

"Okay, I can't," you dangle off, causing Beca to lift her gaze up from your chest to look you in the eyes. She doesn't stop for a second, however, to retreat her mouth from the nipple she's currently working on, which is a sight too _fucking_ sexy for words. By the raise in her eyebrows and slowing down of her tongue, you gesture messy with one hand over to where the music is coming from, mind going haywire. "I was serious about having sex to my middle school anthem."

Beca stills her movements after one last suck to " _pop_ " before lifting her head all the way up and you immediately miss the warm, wet contact given from her mouth on your chest. "Want me to change it?" You erratically nod your head, wishing she'd hurry up and change it so you two can get back to where you guys left off. It's a good song, don't get you wrong, but definitely a mood killer.

Your impatience with the song choice makes her smile as she stands to get up. "Any requests?"

Despite the inability to move as quickly as you'd like to and the fact your heart is pounding in your chest from previous activity, you angle yourself back up to lean on your elbows so you're able to watch Beca walk over to her sound system. Salivating comes natural when taking a glance at the girl without a bra bent over in lacy boy shorts as she messes with her music and also proper communication since Beca has to snap her fingers in your general direction when you don't respond back.

"What?" You ask a little out of it, unaware she was even asking you a question.

"Any requests?" Beca repeats herself and you have to try _very_ hard to concentrate on what she's saying with her standing half naked and you being _extremely_ turned on. "Or we can listen to nothing, whatever you like-"

"Do you have anything where you're...singing?" You suggest nervously, thinking this was a weird thing to ask, but the corners of Beca's mouth twitch upwards and she's already looking through the collection of files on her desktop at your request. You also know she can feel your lingering stare over her body, but doesn't say anything and instead, uses it against you, like, deliberately sticking out her butt a little bit farther in your view because she _knows_ just how much you love her butt.

A familiar tune plays softly out of Beca's speakers before she's walking her way towards the bed where you're baiting her with lust filled eyes and returning her position back on top of you. It's one of your favorites as you can remember playing it quite frequently on your phone; Bruno Mar's "Versace on the Floor." But instead of his raw, raspy and _very_ talented voice, you hear an angelic sound that definitely gives him a run for his money.

"Had a copy of this one when I worked on it with him last summer."

Needless to say, Beca's version is a hundred times better and thousand times _sexier_ with her now being the one doing the vocals. It may be embarrassing, but you're almost positive Beca could sing the alphabet and you'd be on the verge of combustion. Hell, you're proud enough to admit she could get you off just singing.

"Can't say I ever had sex to me singing, so that's exciting." You can only squeak when Beca's hand abruptly cup your breast; her hands just as cold as yours.

It doesn't take long for Beca's mouth to return its position back on your body now that the music change is something the both of you can enjoy. Instead of your chest, her mouth finds the spot over your pulse and begins to suck vigorously; the same spot where it took a _crap_ ton of makeup to cover until the bruises started fading away.

But even now, you assume that there's a bit of a shadow that has become permanent over your skin and now with Beca sucking at that same area, you'll probably end up dying with the bruises- not that you're complaining.

Your mouth falls open to heave out little pants of air once Beca expertly starts alternating between sucking, biting and licking, and your hands move to seek out for something to hold onto. They land on Beca's breasts at first; you remember to handle them the same way you did before and are more than pleased to hear that Beca is unable to keep the moans to herself.

Beca shifts off your body and slides up next to you, still keeping one of her legs tangled with yours and takes the hand not locked snug behind your head to trace down your body. Fingertips paint gently across your skin, starting at the base of your throat where they descend down between the valley of your breasts and middle of your stomach muscles before lingering her touch just above the elastic part of your thong and soft area under your belly button.

Your breath catches in your throat with where Beca's hand is place, as well as how she's sucking at the spot just under your ear and jaw in a way that makes your eyes roll to the back of your skull. When that hand decides to move lower down your body, however, it's a whole new story that has you squeezing your eyes closed so tightly they might actually burst. Especially with the kiss Beca sneaks in without you noticing that leaves you physically _breathless_.

Your mouth remains open when she retreats her lips back to kiss along your jaw bone, heart racing a mile a minute as your hips sink into the mattress while the hand cups over your core.

"At least it feels like you're enjoying this just as much as I am." Beca chuckles flirtatiously into your ear where her teeth are now grazing around the outer shell, instantly raising up all the hair on your body by the raspy timbre in her voice. Also, the hand rubbing slowly on top of the damp piece of fabric above your core makes your thighs start to tremble. "Is this okay?"

Honestly, it's more than okay and you really want to tell Beca to stop worrying so much, but also, you kind of _don't_. Because it means she's trying to make this as special for you as she can, which just makes you fall deeper in love with the girl.

And also, nothing of what she is doing or has done thus far is making you feel uncomfortable and wanting to pull away.

In fact, it's quite the _opposite_ you're feeling, if your underwear has anything to say to back this up-which it does because you're so (sorry grandma) wet right now from everything that is happening or has done, hence Beca's earlier comment.

Like, so incredibly _**drenched**_ that it should be concerning due to the fact Beca has _yet_ to touch you beneath the fabric, but when she does, you honestly don't know how your body will react.

So it will be quite the surprise for both of you.

You turn your head to face Beca who is looking at you when you gain enough strength to open your eyes, stare captivating. Her dark makeup around her eyes still looks _perfect_ and would have definitely made the blue in her eyes pop if there was still any present, but by now, her pupils are fully dilated.

With Beca's fingers resuming to rub circles over the fabric between your thighs and soon your hips smoothly rock in rhythm to join, you take one of your hands and cup the side of her face to bring her lips towards yours, silencing any noises threatening to slip out by the building tension you feel in your lower stomach.

Because _fuck_ , it feels good.

But your breathing begins to increase, becoming more ragged and labored, which then makes it hard to focus on kissing when your body starts uncontrollably rolling into Beca's hand to create more friction, but it comes out choppy, and sloppy.

So a lot of the time you're just panting cries into Beca's mouth until you're forced to pull away and bite your bottom lip to suppress a moan when Beca's hand boldly slides back up towards your stomach. Every part of your body inside and out catches on fire when you feel her fingers slipping beneath the waistline of your underwear to resume those tight circles over skin rather than hot, damp lace.

At first, your body jolts violently at the contact because even yourself didn't think you'd be that sensitive, but turns out you can barely lay still without bucking your hips up and down in a synchronized rhythm against Beca's fingers. She slides her body down your frame to capture one of your nipples into her mouth, adding to the sensations buzzing throughout your body.

And, _Jesus_ , if you thought that before felt great, now with what Beca's fingers and mouth are simultaneously doing to you feels just _heavenly_.

You're no stranger when it comes to touching yourself; you have lots of alone time to yourself to which you take advantage of, especially recently since you started dating Beca.

But having someone else do the honors for you makes you forget all about those late night sessions, alone, or in the shower.

All the times you drove yourself off the edge by only using your hand, which you thought was the only one that could get you to that point so quickly, but turns out, Beca has a few tricks up her sleeves, as well.

Snapping your eyes closed, "oh my God," you cry soft whimpers as Beca's fingers slide through your wetness and you hook a hand through her hair for support whenever she drags her finger or tongue over a particularly sensitive spot. " _Baby_ , it feels good." Your voice is shaky and you honestly think about shedding a tear with how damn good it feels to finally have Beca touch you like this.

Which is why you're _devastated_ to feel Beca removing her hand out from beneath the lace and moving off the bed without warning. It's when you feel those same fingers, along with more, hooking underneath either side of your thong and slowly peeling away the last bit of clothing from your body that quickly spikes your arousal backup and transforms you into a writhing mess.

Beca takes the gap between your legs as an invitation and doesn't waste any time sliding her way back in between them once she throw yours underwear off to the side, leaving it to join the rest of your discarded clothes on the floor.

You wiggle your way farther up the bed so she has enough room to lay until your head lands on a mountain of pillows. She finds a comfortable position on her stomach as you bend both your knees and she wraps her arms around your hips from underneath. She has her legs lifted in the air and crossed at the ankles, looking innocent and cute as ever, but you know that what she's about to do to you would be considered everything but _innocent_.

"Natural redhead I see." There's not a lot of evidence to back this up, but there's enough to prove Beca right, and you laugh out loud, shading a hand over your eyes shyly at the observation. Leave it up to Beca to continue making you feel comfortable and relaxed while she has her face between your thighs.

By now the song has changed from Bruno Mars to a studio version of Beca singing The Weekend's "The Morning," which only escalates your level of horniess into the danger zone, leaving you _desperate_ for Beca to touch you and is probably way more obvious by the chase in your hips.

It's overwhelming to know that after tonight, you'll no longer be a virgin, but it's also exciting because there's no one in this world you'd want to share this moment with other than the girl staring lovingly up at you from between your legs like you're the only girl in this world. The moment only lasts briefly until her eyes lace over with a newly wicked glint to them and it twists your insides up into a Boy Scout knot.

And then Beca starts to move again, trailing wet, opened mouth kisses up the inner parts of your thighs where they're bent, landing closer and closer to the apex of your thighs that's begging and _throbbing_ for attention.

She's looking up at you with a glint of mischief in her eyes- and though it's way too sexy beyond words to be watching her from the angle you are at, your heartbeat is pounding so violently against your chest that you can feel the thunderous rhythm in your throat, then ears, and it drowns out the music.

At the first initial contact of Beca's tongue providing long, thorough strokes creates an involuntary jolt that your body, without warning, undergoes and you're arching your back off the bed with how sensitive you've became. The hand crowning Beca's hair out of her face begins to fist as Beca starts to suction her lips over a spot that earns a throaty moan from deep within your chest.

And you don't exactly _recall_ when it happened, but Beca is holding your other hand at the side of your body, fingers tangled together while her other hand holds down your hips to preventing you from bucking so hard.

But you still-without a choice-grind your hips to match Beca's strokes, each time bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

She's asks you again if everything she's doing is okay, but never removes her mouth from where she has paused her tongue motions and kisses you ever so lightly over your swelling lips (and not the lips on your face).

But because of the vibration from her voice and the puffs of air brushing across your core when she murmurs this, it steals any and all _verbal_ responses you had planned on replying back with and replaces them with a string of breathless moans up to the ceiling.

Another longer lasting kiss creates a cyclone to spin around in your gut and you have to tightly squeeze your eyes shut and attempt not to break Beca's hand, or rip out the hair you're grasping of hers when you feel the wetness of her tongue back on you again. Your strength, however, sneaks up on you without a warning, just like how Beca's middle finger suddenly joins the action as she quickly slides it through your wet folds, collecting more than enough wetness you're producing to coat and doesn't waste a second before inserting it inside you.

And you will gladly admit that your _entire_ body undergoes some sort of electrical jolt at the new sensation and the hand clawing through Beca's hair has officially turned white in the knuckles from squeezing so hard.

It's far from gentle by the grunts coming out from Beca, and _perhaps_ you might be hurting her, but she doesn't seem to mind.

The initial contact, honestly, is uncomfortable; you're tight, _very_ tight (obviously) and not that it's a shock, but not a lot of _stuff_ has been shoved in there. Beca knows the drill before you even have the chance to tell her and she's being cautious, taking it slow, making sure you have enough time to adjust to her finger and enjoy the feeling.

Which you soon begin to do.

Like, _really_ enjoy the feeling, especially when she adds a second finger and repeats the same process with her fingers curling slowly inside of you.

"Fucking Hell, you're beautiful."

Words aren't really forming in your repertoire by the hoarseness in Beca's voice as her fingers continue working, the heat inside you coiling tighter every curl you feel. When Beca's pace begins to speed up, so does your breathing, and so does the rise and fall of your chest, and same with the motion of your hips falling in sync with Beca's fingers. When she adds her thumb into the mix to circle around your clit at the same time her fingers pump, you think she's on track to rightfully **destroy** you.

" _Fuck_ ," you exhale sharply, the pressure in your stomach only getting tighter and tighter. This is just, _wow_ ; you have nothing else to say about what you're feeling except why the _hell_ did you wait this long to have sex with this girl?

Beca replaces her thumb back with her tongue; a part of her body you never thought you could miss as much as you did. She takes no time easing her tongue onto your center before increasing the speed along with her fingers; the circular motions strong enough for you to ignore the volume of sounds escaping your mouth.

You feel it coming quickly after her tongue's arrival; the pressure about to burst inside you like a water balloon when you claw at Beca's hair with one hand and grip at the sheets beside you with the other. Just as you're about to fall off the edge, preparing yourself for what's about to come, Beca stops.

Literally stops _everything_ she is doing and the pressure inside your stomach slowly deflates back down to normal.

"Just wait," Beca murmurs up at you when she feels the irritation bubbling up inside you, about ready to erupt.

The exasperation fades when her fingers twitch back to life again, and it's frightening how fast you can feel the pressure starting to swell. It's even _more_ frightening how quick you are to coming undone; Beca's name on your lips as you moan and writhe in pleasure until you feel it again seconds after her thumbs rubs against your clit.

But before you can release, Beca **stops** once **again**.

" _Seriously_? For fuck sakes, Beca." You hiss your annoyance, breathing heavy and you feel like crying at the refusal Beca is granting on your body, but her fingers move in the same pattern as before.

Around the third time Beca stops just to continue, it about disintegrates the last bit of sanity your body had holding on. Before you can say something about it, preferably _scream_ at Beca for the unwanted teasing, her fingers are back inside you, again, and her tongue swirls _violently_ around where all your nerves seem to be bundled together.

And then it happens.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as all the pressure releases out from inside you while you scream silent cries into the air, half certain your soul just levitated out from your body. Toes begin curl as your body begins to convulse in pleasure when you clamp your thighs together with Beca still caught in between, slowing her motions, but not yet stopping.

The sensitivity only increasing from there, you twist over to your side, grab the nearest pillow you can find and bite into the object to the point of breaking teeth, muffling the moan of profanity you _scream_ into the cover as your body thrashes. You were expecting something quiet explosive from Beca, _duh_ , but all the teasing and multiple build ups definitely gave you one hell of a finale that left you utterly disoriented

Eventually your body calms; you're still tingling _everywhere,_ your breathing is still heavy, and when you open your eyes you see nothing but blackness and stars, but your body deflates and the hand tangled in Beca's hair falls flaccid into the mattress. You release the pillow caught between your teeth and focus on slowing your breathing before you hyperventilate. The moment Beca sees your crash, she scoots her way up to meet your face, ghosting a trail of kisses up your body until her lips land on the corner of your mouth where your head is turned. Without looking directly at her, you can feel her stare boring into you, the smug smile glowing across her face as she surveys you fighting desperately for air.

You have no doubt in your mind that you look like a hot mess; your forehead is sweaty, hair is probably a nest, yet Beca is still looking down at you like you're the most beautiful girl in the world. Getting hit with every emotion at once, you weakly wrap your arms around Beca's torso, the hug becoming tighter and tighter when you nuzzle your face deep into her neck and feel your clammy skin molding to hers.

And she hugs you back, so tight and secure that you feel like crying, because you've never felt so loved in someone else's arms.

So _safe_.

And you don't really know how to express how incredibly lucky and _thankful_ you are to have lost something so special, so _significant_ to someone who you're over the moon for.

You just hope Beca knows that this night means more than _anything_ to you, and spending it with Beca gives you many emotions you can't even comprehend.

"I know I already said this, but I'll say it again," Against your ear where her lips are, Beca starts to speak for the first time in what felt like _years_. "You're beautiful." This doesn't help with the urge to cry, but you choke back the tears and make a joke out of it for your sake.

"And also someone who might not be able to walk ever again." You share a tired laugh with Beca as she kisses softly over your cheek, still feeling incredibly lightheaded from the orgasm you just endured. "If I wasn't in love with you before, I sure as hell am now."

Beca's hold around your body loosens and she pulls her face away only to capture your lips softly with hers.

And you almost pass out from the taste of yourself layered over her lips and tongue as you two get lost in the kiss.

You relish in the motions of Beca sucking at your lips leisurely; the kiss far from being hurried, like the two of you have all the time left in the world, so why rush it? With your legs and Beca still caught in between, you enclose Beca's body where your ankles hook together above the back of her thighs. You use the time to regain your energy back after it being taken out of you, fingers trace lightly down the length of Beca's spine and back up to repeat the action.

You know for a fact you could kiss Beca until the sun came up, but also know that-that can't happen when you gradually feel your energy and arousal spiking back up at the way her body is pressed against yours. Hinting that you're ready to continue by the shifting of your body beneath Beca's, she falls to the side, not breaking the kiss. Swiftly with Beca now on her back, you switch positions; you astride her hips and palms quickly fill with her breasts as she arches into the touch, releasing heavy breaths of air into your mouth.

And the kissing remains slow, yet _heated_ , like she's handing you over the wheel and you're the one now controlling- _dominating_ -the kiss and she's just laying back, enjoying the ride.

This is child's play to you now that you've gone through the process earlier; you know all of Beca's spots and buttons to push to have her a writhing mess beneath you. It's when you slide down her body, sucking hard against the skin on her stomach to leave a trail of bruises and lips land at the waistline of her underwear when you start to panic. Then you freeze, unable to move when you realize, " _holy shit, I have_ _ **never**_ _done this before,_ " and the fear of messing up floods your head with poisonous thoughts.

"Honestly, it's not that scary," Beca's voice is soft and there's a hand that makes its way to comb through your hair, keeping it pushed back and out of your face. When you look up at her from your position, she has a gentle gaze in her eyes and a type of comforting smile she's been encouraging you with all night. "It's basically like making out, and from how you kiss, you should be _amazing_."

It's little things like this Beca says that gives you a whole new wave of confidence- though Beca has kind of set the bar pretty damn high. Maybe you she should've gone first that way if you _were_ to mess up, or at the worse case scenario, she doesn't _come_ , you wouldn't be held to some sort of expectation.

And then you wouldn't die of embarrassment.

However, you push these worries aside and hook your fingers on either side of Beca's underwear at her hips. "You won't laugh at me?" The question is quiet and delicate, but Beca's promise comes back sternly and honest.

"I _promise_ I won't."

You smile sweetly up at her and she lifts her hips off the bed, helping you pull down her underwear the rest of the way until it's slipping off her feet. For the first time seeing Beca as naked as you currently are, you marvel at the sight laying in front of you, at a lost for words, to say the least. Again like the whole boobs ordeal, you've- _by accident_ \- have seen the ocassional vagina belonging to one of your sisters and have seen your own many times, _of course_ , but Beca's doesn't even come close to comparison with either of the ones you saw.

"Take a picture it'll last longer," Beca jokes and you'd laugh if it wasn't for the fact you're taking a _bajillion_ mental images already.

You get hungrier the longer you look, imagining just how she tastes. Beca pulls you up by the neck and captures your lips; you once again setting the pace until you breakaway breathing heavy and impatient. Gaining some courage, you slide back down Beca's body, but this time you aren't met with the black lace covering up Beca's sex.

Covering up the _wetness_ glistening over her core you notice at first glance.

"See what you already do to me?" Beca murmurs throatily with so much rasp to her voice that your gut tightens and a ball of heat instantly strikes between your legs.

And boy do you _see_ it.

What you are able to do to the girl-to see how _wet_ she is for you.

Cocky has never been a trait you'd classify as; you can't even think of a specific time where you felt the need to be cocky. That is until _now_ , which gives you right the push in the direction to test the waters.

Or should you say _taste_ the waters.

And holy _fuck_ is it good.

One taste and you come to terms that you still have no idea what you're doing, but you wing it, and so far Beca is enjoying everything you do. Like before, you go off of Beca's reactions; you notice she reacts more positively to _long_ swipes of your tongue compared to the short ones. How she arches her back off the bed higher when you switch to fast and erratic licks over her clit.

She tells you to go higher when she wants it, or faster when she feels the pressure building and her noises of encouragement are enough to thoroughly obey. Noticing your hands not really doing much and you not knowing really _what_ to do with them, Beca takes both her hands to guide them up towards her chest, each palm now filled with the swell of her breasts and, okay, _that's_ what your hands are meant to do.

You chance a glance every now and then up at Beca; the way her eyes flutter shut, the part in her lips and rise and fall to her chest under your hands are addicting to watch, but you're not that skilled yet to multitask and have to eventually tear your eyes away, much to your dismay. Your tongue quickly gets use to everything, strokes become _stronger_ , moving in all sort of directions and by the increase in Beca's breathing it suggests that you're doing just fine.

And when Beca's hips start to rock against you tongue, it suggests she's _close_.

You hum with pleasure; this is going a lot better than you imagined it being. Beca uses her hands to comb back your hair again, keeping it out of your face-which you appreciate because now you have to focus on keeping up with the jerking from Beca's hips.

" _Shit_ ," It's a mixture between a hiss and a moan, but regardless it signals you to look up and by the string of moans paired together with choppy, labored breathing that becomes more rapid, you _know_ Beca's close. "Don't stop...baby, _don't stop_."

You've never heard Beca beg before, where her voice is on the brim of breaking and she's on the verge of sobbing, but you're sure glad the first time you hear it is when you're going down on her. It's reassuring and gives you a new sense of pride to quicken your licks in short circles around Beca's nub, even though you might have lock jaw by the time she's done.

But the time comes sooner than you thought; Beca's hands clench a fistful your hair to yank side to side and her nails scrape roughly against your scalp as her entire body shakes uncontrollably. It hurts like hell, but you'd endure all the pain if it meant seeing Beca come undone, the sounds escaping her mouth the _sexiest_ noises you've ever heard.

And she _comes_ hard; your name the last thing you hear dripping off her tongue before it's swallowed up by a sharp cry and the sight makes you _weak_.

Your tongue works beyond the thrashing against her dripping heat, slow and deliberate to make Beca's body _violently_ jolt until she is pushing you away. When the grip in your hair loosens and you feel the tensed muscles in Beca's body deflate, you leave a line of open mouth kisses up her thigh, hypnotized by the image of her crashing from the high, one arm drapes loosely over her eyes.

"No _fucking_ way," Beca suddenly announces out of breath, a shaky chuckle follows right after and tone more than satisfied. Scooting up her body, your chest molds with hers fighting heaving for air as you meet back up to eye level, but hers are glued shut to see your arrival.

"What?" You ask innocently with a smile to match when Beca's hooded eyes gradually begin to open.

"You're telling me that you've _never_ done that before?" The shock in her voice makes you blush profusely and all of a sudden you're acting shy around the girl who seconds ago you were doing _sinful_ things to.

"So...it was _good_?"

Beca laughs maniacally and it's not the most comforting thing to hear after sex, but the kiss you get in return as she pours everything she has into sure is. Pulling away from the kiss, "I love you a lot," is all she replies with, her hands cupping either side of your face and pieces of hair sticking to the layer of sweat on her forehead. "And I love your mouth even more."

"Good," you smugly whisper this close to Beca's face, lips practically touching. "Because me and my mouth love _you_ a lot, too."

"You learn all that by watching _porn_?" It's a question Beca finds _way_ too much humor in and a question shaming enough to turn your face beet red when you pull it away.

You're going to kill Stacie and Aubrey. Plain and simple.

Absolutely _mortified_ by Beca's announcement, you give her some sort of guttural groan before slamming your forehead into her chest as she continues to cackle above you. "Ignorance is bliss, baby," you whine out childlike; you could've live the rest of your life in peace without Beca knowing this little, traumatizing bit of information about yourself. She gives you another loud laugh from the belly and it's hard not to join in, but then she tells you she's joking and everything you did was unbelievable _-better_ than what they do in porn.

And it's refreshing.

Still, you're going to _murder_ tweedle dee and tweedle dumb for spilling the beans and putting you through this mortifying experience of your girlfriend finding out you watched porn to prepare yourself for sex.

Laying your head above Beca's chest when your cheeks start to cool down, the two of you lay in comfortable silence as your bodies begin to regroup. "Wanna know what would be perfect right now?" You wanna take a guess and say 'cigarette' because that's like a _thing_ , isn't it? To smoke right after mind blowing sex? "A big _juicy_ burger with extra pickles, no tomatoes and medium rare. Extra fries on the side- _oh_! And a milkshake."

But what you're hit with is not what you guessed it would be.

"You're such a dork," you giggle madly into the crook of Beca's neck, completely taken off guard by her response, but one of the many reasons why you love her; she's a conundrum wrapped in a riddle. "That does sound delicious." _Maybe that could be our first real date_ , you think to yourself and kiss around the hollow of Beca's neck.

Beca doesn't say anything back, but lingers a kiss on the top of your head. She tugs on one of your legs to wrap around the middle of her stomach so you're straddling her once again before you have the chance to process anything at all. Then, she covertly taps the back of your thighs, urging you to scoot up on your knees while she weasels her way down the bed. One puzzled glance down at the girl whose face is now only visible from the mouth up between your thighs, eyes filled with lust and mischief and you're ask her, "what do you think you're doing?"

"Gotta feed my appetite somehow and lucky for me, I got a five star meal right above my face."

You reply back with a strangled moan at the warm, wet and familiar feeling of Beca's tongue gliding between your folds without warning before you fall forward, hands gripping at the headrest on the bed while your mouth drops to your chest and it comes to your senses that sleep, _tonight_ , is probably not going to happen.

And- _don't have to twist my arm_ \- but you're _**definitely**_ okay with that, especially if means Beca treating you like queen.

 _Literally_.

* * *

If you ever thought you'd wake up feeling like a million bucks and then some, you never expected it to be after a night of endless hours of aggressive, yet _passionate_ love making for the first time ever.

But then again, you did all of this with the one person you're so insanely in love with that it all makes sense, really.

You stir awake at the lack of warmth that you knew was there the moment your drifted to sleep in Beca's arms. Confusion hits you first as to where she could be, but you know she couldn't have gone far. Worry is next as your mind starts to over analyze everything and you end up thinking the worse as to where and _why_ Beca might have left during the night.

But you know Beca wouldn't just leave without a purpose.

Glancing over at Beca's desk clock, you read the red LED numbers that reads it's only six in the morning; a time that you'd _never_ expect your girlfriend to be up at. You would've known this if Beca's room had some sort of window and saw it is still dark outside, but Beca's room is like a windowless cave.

And it's _cold_ like a cave, too, and you really miss the warmth her body gives off.

So you find the closest thing to a sheet on Beca's bed, wrap your naked body that aches in all the right places-the right ways- until you're fully covered and head out of the room in search for Beca.

The hallways in the cabin are quiet as you tiptoe your bare feet against the cold, wooden tile, hoping to find Beca soon because you're still very much _drained_ from last night's activities, but nonetheless still living in some sort of euphoria you wish to experience in the arms of your girlfriend's. Checking the kitchen first since maybe Beca got hungry and needed a snack, you're bummed to see it empty and continue onto the next area in the cabin where you think Beca could be.

Your inner fear spikes right back up at the possibility of Beca actually _leaving_ you when you've checked the living room, back and front yard and still haven't found the girl, but not because you're scared that Beca might have left because she thought last night was a mistake. Definitely not. You felt it and you _know_ she felt that last night was something _magical_.

You're more worried at the possibility of something bad happening to Beca and with all the shit going on right now, the thought of Beca being in trouble makes your stomach drop. It's when you hear the strumming of a guitar coming from the basement where Beca's studio is located you start to feel all your worry and negative thoughts fade away.

Quietly sneaking down the stairs, you're more than relieved to see Beca sitting on one of the studio's stools with a guitar in her lap as she strums a few notes, hums a few words and jots both of them down in a notebook placed on a table in front of her. You notice she has her back turned away from the stairs you're descending from and doesn't notice your presence, so not wanting to startle Beca, you stand back for a while and admire the girl in her own habitat.

She's wearing a pair of flannel pajama shorts and a tank top; the same one she was wearing last night, and you can't help but notice she is _glowing_ in beauty-not like this is anything new, but this morning she looks different.

In a good way.

A _really_ good way.

When Beca is in between jotting down whatever it is she's writing in her book, you quietly close the distance separating you two and gently place a hand over her shoulder. She doesn't jump, doesn't even _flinch_ at the contact at your unexpected arrival, but instead leans into the touch, kissing the tops of your knuckles and it's a sweet gesture like this that makes your knees turn to jelly.

"Enjoying the show?" Beca asks lowly in her gravelly morning voice that you can't help but love. "How long have you been standing there?"

Honestly, you have know idea.

The moment you saw Beca humming along to a song you weren't familiar with, nodding her head softly to the music and playing the guitar, you sort of lost track of time as you were too hypnotized by the sight.

"Only like five minutes or so," you take a best estimate-though it's an _underestimation_ -and lean down to linger your lips over Beca's cheek. "How did you know I was here?"

"I guess I forgot to mention I have supersonic hearing."

Your eyes nearly bulge from your skull at the new information and you're sort of glad Beca can't see the instant shock that hits you unexpectedly. "Seriously?"

"Nah, I'm totally fucking with you," Beca starts to laugh, turning around on the stool to see you rolling your eyes while trying not to smile. "I could just… I don't know," she scratches the back of her neck, searching for the right word to describe what she means. " _Feel_ you there, or something supernatural like that."

"Well, it's not the most _bizarre_ thing I've ever heard come from your mouth," you giggle sweetly; you'd be lying if you said you didn't feel a weirdly strong connection with her after last night. You gesture down to the guitar sitting above Beca's lap, curiosity running high. "Wanna tell me why I'm just now finding out my girlfriend plays the guitar?"

Beca continues to rub at her neck timidly, an action completely uncharacteristic of her to do so; she's so bold, confident and _cocky_ -not that you mind. "Yeah, it's kind of a thing I do."

"Apparently," you snort sarcastically and study the guitar a little more in depth. "It's a _beaut_ ," you compliment after the examination, but even the word doesn't seem to sum up the true beauty the guitar holds. Just like it doesn't for the person operating the instrument.

"Thanks, she's a 1930 Martin OM-45 Deluxe," Beca explains as she watches you trace your fingers along the Brazilian Rosewood and down towards the middle of the guitar where there's 1930 style floral inlay on the pickguard. "Only 14 of them were ever made and fewer than 10 are known to exist. Luckily for me, I was able to snag one up for myself. Been a while since I've brought her out, though."

"Why's that?" You ask, suddenly curious.

"I only ever use her if I'm writing music and ever since my mom died, I just...stopped."

The fall to Beca's features pinches at your heart in a way desperate to lift her spirit back up and you're seeking out her hand for any type of comfort without dropping the sheet covering your body. Threading your fingers together with hers and kissing the top of her hand, you almost melt when you're receive a small smile in return.

"Is that why you're up so early? You're writing music?" You ask hopeful. The thought of Beca writing her own music electrifies you to no other, not only because it's super _attractive_ to see her playing the guitar, but also because she's so damn talented that it's unfair.

"Actually, yeah," Beca's answer surprises you and her body language perks right back up. "I haven't really felt _inspired_ to write anything, but I woke up at around five and suddenly, I had so much inspiration flowing through my head that I _had_ to write it down."

Not only is Beca up at six, but turns out she was up at _five_ in the morning, writing music, which just baffles you that she was able to pull herself out of bed that early, but also makes you curious as to where the sudden inspiration came from. Also, you can't hide the fact that you're a little bit giddy after hearing Beca is starting to write music again, which means free concerts for you _all_ the time and honestly, it doesn't get much better than that.

"Can I hear it?" You ask and already assume that Beca is nowhere done with the piece because she only just started it an hour ago, but is eager to hear what she has so far. Lucky for you, Beca agrees to show you what she has so far after informing you that this is a rough draft and not to judge too hard and you happily give her room to situate the guitar on her lap before she's softly plucking at the strings.

And then she starts singing, and everything in your world seems to stop moving.

 _Heaven only knows where you've been,_

 _but I don't really need to know_

 _I know where you're gonna go._

 _On my heart, where you're resting your head_

 _And you just look so beautiful_

You get lost in the passion hidden within Beca's soothing voice as she plays the guitar and knows that if she was looking up at you, you're positive you'd get lost in the passion lacing her eyes. There's just something about the way she sings and how her voice is so _raw_ and _powerful_ that it casts a spell on you, making you feel like you'd do anything for the girl if she were to ask. As if she has you locked in her own little compulsion where you just can't seem to look away.

And your trance only seems to get stronger once Beca smoothly transitions her voice into a faster medley, lyrics starting to pick up speed compared to the first verse, but nonetheless does it not make your heart feel like its seconds away from floating out from the inside of your chest

 _Moonlight, mood lights, moves like J-Lo._

 _Tell me what you want from me, I'll do it if you say so._

' _Cause you're the only one for me, I'm never gonna say no._

 _I found me an angel, I can see it in your halo._

 _Have you ever dreamt what we could do?_

 _Have you ever sent an "I love you"?_

 _I've never felt the feelings that I feel for you._

 _So maybe we could make it with me and you._

 _I'mma treat you right tonight, let's make it last forever._

 _I promise you that no one else will ever treat you better._

 _And if you don't believe me, please see I don't need no effort._

 _All you gotta do is flip that switch before we bed-up_

Beca stops abruptly after that last verse, claiming that is all she wrote so far, but you already know the finished product is going to be a piece of artwork. It's not a big surprise when you swoon at the lyrics and how Beca delivers the song, unable to resist the connection you feel towards the song Beca has written and can't help but wonder if the song is about you.

Which, for whatever reason it _isn't_ , then you should start to feel concerned, but Beca soon admits that she hasn't had much inspiration to write music until she met you. And that she _definitely_ hasn't written a song about anybody before, but yet again, _no one_ has ever given her enough inspiration and motivation to do so.

"You've came into my life and opened so many doors for me that finally gave my cold, dark life some brightness to it and I can't thank you enough for being the sunshine to my raincloud."

Heart takes most of the swelling, growing to the size of a boulder when hearing the sincerity laced in Beca's voice and how you feel like you might suffocate. She's looking at you with _so much_ honesty that everything inside your body just feels lighter, and warmer, and all around _better_ when you're around Beca that you can't possibly imagine yourself with anyone else.

Clearing your throat in attempt to not start crying and ruin the mood like you desperately want to do, "I know you say this a lot, but I like me better when I'm with you, too," you manage to admit, even though your voice starts to waver towards the end and knew if you were to talk any longer, you'd end up crying.

"Guess that makes two of us."

You hum in agreement, bottom lip quivering as you fight to keep your emotions in check, "And I love you a lot," you add and get the _brightest_ smile back in return.

"I love you, too."

And she kisses you with so much passion that it almost knocks you back onto your butt, but you stand your ground and kiss her back just as desirous.

And everything feels absolutely _perfect_.

More than satisfied by Beca's response and fighting back the urge to yawn now that the exhaustion from last night creeps back up on you, you take Beca's hand in yours, signaling for her to stand. "Let's go back to bed, baby." And she quickly agrees to this as you can spot out her own personal exhaustion growing by the red in her eyes and droop to her lids.

She sets her guitar back into the designated case and puts it back where it belongs before following you up the stairs, her fingers held loosely through yours as you pull her around the silent hallways. Making it back into the warmth of the sheets where you waste no time before wrapping your limbs around the side of her side body like a koala on a tree, you sigh contently, feeling as if nothing could possibly be better than this.

"I'm glad you're still here." You're almost unsure if your actually spoke this out loud, or if it all was just said in your head, but Beca hums out in confusion, her fingers continuing to trace light patterns over your shoulder.

"You think I would've just left you here?"

It kind of sounds ridiculous hearing it out loud because you know Beca isn't like that. Perhaps, maybe before you got to know her, but not now. Not after everything you two have been through. The connection you've built with Beca is too strong to break; you just wish your heart was in agreement with your brain, which tends to overthink every possible thing like _ever_.

"You thought I'd leave you in _my_ bed?" Beca repeats herself, voice raising in skepticism, but also has humor laced in it and you just _know_ she's smirking. You pull your cheek off of Beca's chest to look at her momentarily, nodding your head to answer with a timid bite to your bottom lip. "No way! This is a memory foam mattress! Shit is not cheap, babe. I'd definitely kick you out to the curb."

You laugh out loud, not believing this for a second and Beca just smiles down at you from where her neck is craned, teeth practically _blinding_. She tells you she's joking, and you look at her features for any sign that she could be lying, but you find none.

"I wouldn't leave the girl who single handedly- _literally_ \- gave me the best sex I've ever had." Again, you look for any signs on Beca's face that tells you she's lying, but you're only met with that playful smirk of hers and know she couldn't be.

"Seriously, I don't want any other sitting on my face girl but you, _period_."

" _Awe_ , you're so romantic," you joke teasingly and find your spot back on Beca's chest where you lay your head. "You were great, too." Now this is an understatement at its finest as you look back at the memories and _feel_ how Beca treated you last night. "Actually, you were _phenomenal_." Still, it's nowhere _near_ how you'd describe Beca last night for your first time, but you also don't want to _over exaggerate._

Even if it would be truth and nothing but the truth.

Your head moves in sync with Beca's chest as she laughs, the motion soothing and it makes your eyelids feel as if they're trying to lift a ton of bricks by a single eyelash. You hear her return the compliment, saying you and your mouth were mind blowing, which, like, _likewise to you, too._

"Last night was the best night of my life," you confess euphoric, still stuck in la-la land and feel even more elated when Beca responds back that it was for her, too."

"Well let's go back to sleep," she suggests, dropping a kiss over the top over your head and the feeling brings a warm, weak attempt to smile over your face as you lose the last bit of strength you have to battle back the exhaustion. "After last night we need to refuel our energy."

And without delay while she plays with your hair until your breathing evens out, nails scratching along your scalp, you fall asleep at peace and the _damn_ happiest you've ever been.

* * *

The second time you wake up it's because you've slept all the exhaustion away and feel _invincible_ when you stir awake in the crook of Beca's neck and smell that intoxicating, coconut scent radiating from her hair where your nose is submerged in. You wonder if Beca's awake, but don't have it in you to check, or even move a muscle with the chance of waking the girl up and ruining the position you guys are caught in; her arm caged around your shoulders protectively and her chin resting on the top of your head.

But you really want to check to see what time it is, though, you don't understand _why_ because you could literally spend the entire day in bed with Beca without having to do anything because this is the first morning away from your life at Barden and all your duties that came with it.

And at first, you were kind of upset about leaving that part of your life, but now, you couldn't seem to care less.

It's like you're on some romantic get away with Beca where there's no drama, no trouble and no one out looking for you (except the two hundred and something plus Bellas) and you're stuck living in some sort of paradise, which, like, you can't even complain in the slightest bit.

Plus, you get to live the domesticated lifestyle with your girlfriend now and if _that_ isn't something you've been dying to do with someone you love your whole entire life, you don't know what is.

And the hot tub makes the situation a _hundred_ time better, not going to lie.

Without waking Beca as you wiggle your head free, you peek over to the clock and see that it's now noon, which is by far the latest you've ever slept in. It's not necessarily a _bad_ thing, especially considering what the two of you have been up lately.

Lord knows your body needed some extra recovery time.

After sneaking to check the time, you fall back to lay beside Beca's peaceful, sleeping form and smile contently at her soft breathing pattern. You don't know how long you are staring, but eventually one of Beca's eyes gradually peeks open noticing your shameless staring before she closes it again and the corners of her mouth start to slowly twitch upwards into one of her signature smirks with a little more lag to it.

"Don't be creepy," she murmurs and all you can think about is what better way to properly wake someone up other than a good morning smooch?

Nothing, you conclude, which is enough for you to close the remaining distance and plant a soft kiss over Beca's smirking mouthing. You love how you originally planned on leaning in for _one_ kiss, but instantly gets tugged back down by the neck the second you pull away to give some more, slow, languid kisses that tightens your stomach pleasantly.

This continues for a while; the lazy kissing like a bunch of lovestruck teenagers after a night at prom where Beca and you alternate back and forth between sucking at each others bottom lips, or getting bold and swiping your tongues against one another. She has a tight hold on your waist, which quickly reminds you that, _yes_ , you're still very much naked, but, no, you do not care one bit because Beca has seemed to lose her clothes, as well from the first time she woke up to now.

And the more heated the kiss gets, the more Beca tugs at your body to pull you in closer to hers and the more skin on skin contact there is to soak in.

When the two of you decide that there has been enough kissing (though there's _never_ really enough, if you're being honest) Beca is the first to speak. "How do you feel?"

You feel _a lot_ and even that is an understatement, but the one that instantly comes to mind is, "not like a virgin anymore," and you fall into a shared laughter between you and Beca before she asks how exactly does a virgin feel. "Well, you see, I can't really _explain_ it." Which is true, but you damn well can _feel_ it. The only challenge is transforming how you feel into actual words so Beca could understand where you're coming from.

"But it's a good feeling, right?" Beca asks quietly and there's a bit of worry in her steely blue eyes that look so much bluer this morning now that some of her makeup is gone.

You don't enjoy the look on Beca, even though her putting your needs first is more than adorable, so you close the distance and kiss her passionately, making sure that the feeling you're experiencing right now is _better_ than good and that she knows this.

"I like this." Beca waves a finger over your face once the two of you are done kissing. Realizing your confusion towards what she said, "this whole post coital thing going on," she explains, her voice gravelly, low and _damn_ sexy.

She leans up on her elbow to look down over you when you roll to your back and have to really fight off your teenage boy hormones not to stare at her naked chest when the sheets roll off her shoulders and pool around her hips. "You're so damn sexy right now."

"Weird, I recall you saying something that exact same thing to me last night," you eye her suspiciously, but are unable to hide the smile spreading across your face underneath Beca's stare. " _Multiple_ times, I might add."

"Well, something about an innocent girl screaming _fuck_ a series of times while she's orgasming is a sight I'd give my right arm to see for the rest of my life. Also, I have no idea how I'm going to handle my hormones if you're ever upset with me because you cursing is such a fucking turn on."

Your breath hitches at the darkening in Beca's eyes, also the growl under her words. "I'm not that innocent," it's barely above a whisper, but somehow Beca hears it.

And to prove this statement correct, one of your hands shoots up to pinch nipple out on display and you can feel Beca shiver at the touch as her eyes start to flutter.

Regaining herself enough to speak, she exhales a sharp, "I know and that's what _kills_ me."

There's really no words to say to this, so you lean up, capture her lips again and kiss her senselessly, every time never being enough for you. This goes on for a while until Beca announces she wants to show you something and is sliding out underneath the sheets without caring to cover up her body.

You prop yourself up on your elbows, bite your swollen bottom lip as your eyes stare _hungrily_ at the scars, muscles and hickies covered randomly across pale skin. You follow her movements in a trance as she heads over to her closet, whips out her leather jacket and pulls out something from the inside pocket. By the looks of it and from where you're laying in her bed, it looks to be a small polaroid picture.

And your guess seems to be correct when Beca walks back into bed, covers up her legs as she leans her back on the head rest and invites you to lay underneath her arm.

What you aren't prepared for is it to be a polaroid picture of her _mother_ , who looks identical to Beca; the flawlessly long, chestnut brown hair and crooked smile that seemed to be inherited.

Sliding under her arm and laying your hand on top of her stomach when your cheek falls over the spot above her heart, you wait for her to speak first. "I've been wanting to show this to you and talk about her, but you know how I am," she starts and you don't dare to interrupt her, but boy do you _know_. Beca is a stubborn one, that's for sure. "She was pretty cool, I guess."

And you honestly believe it.

"Always let me stay up late, shoot shotguns out in the desert and would get me out of boring, college talks with my dad during high school and take me out to get tattoos."

Reaching out to trace your fingertips across the photo that shows Beca's mom is leaning happily against a tree with a baby curled up in her arms and oblivious to the picture being taken, "you look just like her," you say quietly because for some reason, you thought if you spoke above a whisper, something or _someone_ would end up breaking. "She's beautiful."

Because _Beca's_ beautiful.

And you're utterly _lunatic_ for this woman.

End of story.

"Yeah, everyone thought we were sisters, so she'd adore you for saying that." Beca chuckles sadly and you're quick to follow, unable to take your eyes off the photo she's holding with the other hand not wrapped around your shoulders. "I wasn't joking when I said she would've loved you, which isn't too much of a shock because you're like... _the_ _best_. Who wouldn't love you?"

You're over the moon when hearing this again and you even think it sounds better the second time around when your breath gets taken away and your stomach tumbles uncontrollably. "And I wasn't lying when I said it would've be an honor to meet such an amazing woman who gave birth and raised such _wonderful_ person that I was lucky enough to fall in love with."

When Beca places the photo on her bedside table after you two are finished looking at it, she presses a lingering kiss on the top of your head before muttering a, "I'm undeniably and hopelessly head over heels for you, Chloe Beale," into your hair as the hand that held onto the picture grabs ahold of one of yours.

"And I think I fell in love with you all over again because a person who carries a photo of their mom with them at all times is just…" you're speechless when trying to think of something to describe this little thing you've learned about the girl, but nothing does it justice. Maybe Beca isn't as badass as she writes herself off to be.

"She goes wherever I go; I feel protected and stronger when I have her there with me, as if she's still _here_ , you know?"

You don't know, actually, because you've never lost someone close to you. In a sense, though, the simple thought of Beca makes you feel safer, like _nothing_ can hurt you, so you kind of understand.

"Well this morning has turned into one giant sap fest." Beca laughs into your hair where her mouth is still pressed up against and you quickly remind her that it's in fact almost one in the afternoon, so technically not morning and she shushes you quiet, but chuckles again anyways. "Guess this is what Adam Levine was talking about in his 'Sunday Morning' song, huh?"

"I _love_ that song," you tell Beca with a beaming smile that spreads across her skin and can feel her cheek muscles moving into a smile of her own.

She then moves on to tell you how she can't _wait_ to cook you breakfast in bed that probably would suck at first, but it'd eventually get better, "but not today because it's like super fucking late." Then she goes on about traveling the whole state of California once you graduate-though she knows the cities like the back of her hand, but you don't, and that's all that matters.

It's at this moment you realize something about Beca; she's not the traditional type of lover who drowns you in cheesy love notes and Shakespeare's poems, but when it comes to the stuff that lasts forever and _means_ a whole lot more, she aces.

You give up all those romantic gestures in a heartbeat for Beca-her burnt grilled cheese, the cigarette smoke scent on her jacket, the fighting off witches and you wouldn't want it any other way.

You tell Beca that you're going to take a shower because even though your body is still running on some sort of electric high that feels like your insides are floating, your hygiene levels are screaming at you to clean yourself up. She lends you some spare clothes of hers; a pair of faded, baggy grey sweats and a camo t-shirt that's folded up at the edge of her bed when you come back.

In the fancy ( _shocker_ ) shower, you relax under the powerful jets massaging over your sore, aching muscles that have Beca's name written all over them. Same with the dark purple hickies trailing up the inner parts of your thighs and at random spots on both your breasts when you start washing your body with soap.

Noticing them brings a dazed smile to your face when all the memories come flooding back into your head and then your knees begin to tremble at how _exactly_ Beca was able to create these dark bruises all over your skin. You have to put a hand on the wall for balance to hold yourself up as you think back to last night and just how _amazing_ it truly was. The memories nearly make you collapse by sudden the tremble in your knees.

You're busy massaging the same smelling coconut shampoo deep into your hair with your fingertips when you hear the door to the bathroom suddenly open and close. Then, the glass door connected to the shower proceeds to slide open, revealing a _very_ naked brunette casually walking inside who is flaunting similar looking bruises around her neck and taut stomach area.

"Did you just bring an apple into the shower?" You point just as Beca takes out a huge bite from the center, and mumbles a " _uh huh_ " through a mouthful of it, as if this is a normal thing to do.

Without any shame whatsoever, "want some?" She lifts up the red apple with a decent size chunk taken out of it to your mouth and that smile she's wearing, along with so much amusement glazed over her eyes is just something you can't say no to.

Plus, you're _starving_ since you skipped out on breakfast today to recharge your _morning after sex_ body.

So, you take a bite and _damn_ , it's a good apple.

Mid chew and as Beca reaches for her shampoo, you catch the scar on her ribs and seem like now-instead of last night when her head was between your legs- is a good time to ask her about it. Despite that you two are still very much _naked_ together.

Naked and _wet_.

Once you swallow the fruit and absentmindedly rinse your hair, you decide to go ahead and ask, "where'd you get this?" It's silent in the shower for a moment after you ask this; the only sounds coming from the shower head water hitting the tile as you trace your fingers gently over the scar.

"One time when I was hunting with my mom, a witch from Gail's coven happened to be a _pro_ at tossing blades, much like Stacie, and I happened to be an untrained, foolish kid back then who deserved to get hit when I wasn't paying attention," she tells you and takes another bite of her apple, then continues. "Blade happened to mess all the important stuff, but still sliced me pretty bad. It was the first serious injury I got, and the first time I disappointed my mom."

Your hear the conversation taking a turn down the serious path by the visible deflation in Beca's body language and you want to do _everything_ in your willpower not to let it get that far and ruin the perfect morning you two are having together. With your thumb feathering lightly across the slightly projected skin, you snake it closer to the front of Beca's ribs and inch it higher until you're brushing along the underside of Beca's left breast.

"Did I ever tell you I'm _super_ into chicks with scars?" You ask huskily while continuing to drag the pad of your thumb under the swell of skin, stealing Beca's line she uses on you so many times because as of lately, you're sporting _lots_ of new scars.

Her eyes flash dark and you swear you can feel her heartbeat increasing. "Might've slipped my mind." Her smirk slowly appears as she continues chewing on the little bit of apple she has left to eat.

"How about I refresh your memory?" you suggest kittenish and coy as you slip your hand up to squeeze tightly around Beca's breast and the apple she has been eating is gone faster than you can even blink and thrown somewhere inside the glass shower.

But it's too late for you to see where _exactly_ it lands because you're being slammed back into the chilled shower walls before your lips get captured aggressively seconds later.

And she erases any previous thought you had when she kicks at the inside of your foot, spreading your legs further apart and makes you forget about everything else _entirely_ when her fingers takes the new open space as an invitation.

And by the way, acoustics in this shower, _superb_.

* * *

After yours and Beca's impromptu shower together, your stomach rumbles in hunger which is due to the fact you skipped out on breakfast and Chloe Beale never skips out on breakfast (though you had something else to eat that perhaps might be as good, or even _better_ than breakfast) but definitely isn't as nutritional as you wished it was.

Beca tells you that she's going to go back down to the studio to finish up the song she's writing and it takes every ounce of strength you have in your body not to follow her downstairs and watch because something about the way she gets lost in the music _does_ something to you unexplainable. Your stomach and growing hunger, however, prevents you from following and you send her off a few dozen kisses until you've both had enough before making your way into the kitchen.

Just as you pass the living room, you hear soft music coming from within and a few childlike giggles that you can easily assume came from your best friend and instantly _know_ she's with Stacie because Stacie seems to be the only person (besides yourself) than can make Aubrey Posen giggle like that. It's a rare sound to hear, like pigs flying type of rare, but when you do hear it, the sound is all around warming and pleasant.

Deciding to make a quick pit stop prior to making breakfast, you enter the room with a beaming smile. That soon gets deflates as your expression becomes stunned when you see Stacie, flaunting her long, implausible length in legs under a pair of black spandex and showing off her stomach muscles with the black sports bra she's wearing as she balances on the top of her head into a headstand. Brows knitted together in confusion, Stacie sees you first as you start to walk in slowly and without breaking her pose, she gives you one of her toothy smiles that signals Aubrey to turn around at your arrival.

"Yoga?" you conclude by the mats, water bottles, relaxing music and that fact that both Stacie and Aubrey are in a _lack_ of clothing.

Aubrey nods her head with a smile of her own, gesturing over to Stacie who has yet to break the pose and it's pretty damn impressive, you must admit. "Stacie and her mom are really good at it, but she claims to be rusty right now and I think she's crazy because _that_ I couldn't do even if I tried."

This you'd have to agree with-though you and Aubrey are no strangers when it comes to yoga. Hot yoga would have to be your favorite, but even then standing flawlessly on your head without a shake or wobble is something only _experts_ can do. Especially when _said_ expert starts to spread apart her legs into a "T' formation with ease, keeping her balance tight and not breaking a sweat during the process.

"See? _Look_ at that." Aubrey lifts her hand to point over at Stacie, but it's pointless because you're already staring at the girl in awe as she manages the movement without a hitch. "She's so... _flexible."_

"Damn right I am, baby," Stacie shoots back a wink that instantly brings a shade of pink to blush over Aubrey's cheeks despite the lustful look behind her emerald green eyes.

It's not the first dirty comment you've heard come from Aubrey's mouth, but the time duration in between has definitely been a while.

"Okay, _hickies_. Just because you got your cherry popped last night doesn't mean you can skip out on telling us everything that happened." You grimace at the unfiltered and clearly inaccurate term Stacie has been unashamedly bashing about since last night.

"I don't think that works for lesbians," Aubrey chimes in and taps her chin, reading your mind like the award winning best friend she truly is.

And it stumps Stacie by the furrow in her brow even when she's upside down. "I mean, it _can_ work for them, right?" This is a question more so directed towards herself than Aubrey, who is more or less done with the conversation, similar to yourself.

You planned on at least eating brunch before enduring the _last night_ talk with your nosy friends you love so much. Eat some eggs, prepare some bacon. _For Christ sakes_ , even have a cup of coffee before your newly developed sex life is the hot topic for this morning.

"I mean, with like toys and stuff?"

Aubrey starts pondering about this and it's a damn miracle she hasn't shuddered in discomfort at all with what they're talking about, involving you and Beca bumping uglies. "I _guess_."

"Even fingers?"

"Well I haven't thought about it that way."

It amazes you that the two are still debating over this and really, if you wanted to, you could easily sneak away from the scene without being noticed. But it humors you, and honestly, you're kind of ready to talk about the events; you've had enough time to experience the blissful euphoria, _alone_ , and now want to share it with the people closest with you.

"So you're telling me Chloe still has her cherry?" Stacie asks incredulously, as if she is personally offended that her theory was incorrect.

"The term came from male/female penetration, which isn't Chloe nor Beca, so though she's not a virgin anymore, I don't think Beca popped her... _cherry_."

Good lord, Aubrey looks nauseous just saying it out loud -which is hilarious-and _seriously_ , are they still bickering about this?

Stacie waves off Aubrey, telling her that for now this doesn't matter and they'll get back to it later. "Okay, no more stalling. We want the dirty deets and don't you dare be prude when explaining. Surprisingly, the walls in this cabin are super thick, so we heard _nada_."

Deciding " _why the hell not_?" and rip off the band aid like you so desperately want to do, "I came... _seven_ times last night." You feel insanely dirty at the confession that is probably meant to stay between you and Beca and is even filthy enough ( _astonishing, you know_ ) to cause Stacie's arms to buckle suddenly, causing her to break form and fall sideways into the ground.

But they asked for it and these are your best friends.

They're obligated to hear about these things and you aren't going to waste an open opportunity to brag about just how _magical_ Beca's talents are in the bed, especially her mouth and fingers that have proven to be talented at other things besides making music.

"You were counting?" Aubrey questions suspiciously.

"Totes," and you shrug back casually. You figured after the second orgasm you might as well count for future references once it seemed like Beca wasn't planning on stopping anytime soon.

And technically it would be _**nine**_ times if you count the shower you had with Beca this morning, which you then fill them both in on and feel the ultimate amount of dirty when both their jaws hang slack off the ground.

"And you're _walking_ right now?" Aubrey asks quizzical with Stacie next to her urging for the answer, as well.

 _Barely_ , you think to yourself with a snort. Yes, you woke up feeling like a newborn baby giraffe trying to get out of bed, but you keep that to yourself despite the subconscious smirk growing on your face when you think about the events that has caused your knees to buckle every time you take a step.

"Oh _wow_." It's extremely new and a little _bizarre_ to see Stacie, for once, at a loss for words and even a tad bit flustered by the confession, but you take it as a damn good accomplishment. "Please, tell me you at least kept up with that?" she asks hopeful, a tint of worry in her eyes that tells you she won't be able to handle herself if you dissapoint.

Suddenly nervous under Stacie's intense gaze, "I mean, at first I had know idea what I was doing." You switch your attention from Stacie to Aubrey, looking for some form of comfort instead of intimidation, like you would receive from your parents when admitting to failing a class (true story by the way). "But I _think_ so?" It comes out more so like a question and you look for Aubrey to help, but you know she can't when Stacie is involved. "She asked me if I was sure I've never done that before-"

"That's good! Basically the best thing a girl wants to hear!" Stacie cuts you off without letting you finish and it startles both you and Aubrey by the rapid response. She envelopes you into a tight hug despite your face being way too close and personal with her boobs and swings you side to side in celebration. "You did good, young grasshopper!"

"She even said it was the best sex she ever had," you add this in when you feel your confidence starting to inflate and Stacie gives you back a high pitch squeal full of excitement as she continues to swing you around like a boneless rag doll.

"And where is she now?" Aubrey wonders when Beca's presence is absent and has been absent the entire morning and early afternoon.

When you detach yourself away from Stacie long limbs and control your hair that is now a giant mess from being manhandled, you inform the two that Beca's down in the studio writing music. They're surprised to hear this, knowing Beca hasn't been one to go out of her way to write her own stuff, but you tell them about earlier this morning when you caught her in the act firsthand.

"Wow, Chlo," Aubrey shakes her head impressed and Stacie looks the exact same way. "Your bedskills must be something else if it has big bad Beca Mitchell writing love songs the morning after like she's Sam Smith."

"That or her pussy must be _extraordinary_."

At first, you stare blankly at Stacie, unable to believe she would shamelessly say something like this out loud, but then you think, _oh yeah_. She totally would. The three of you burst into a shared laughter as you guys head for the kitchen when your stomach starts growling and promise them both you'll explain your night once you have food in your system.

Until then, you're the only one who gets to soak in the blissful upshot that has your entire body and soul buzzing off of pure ecstasy.

* * *

 **Okay, who has cavities from all that sweetness because I know I sure do! Review, review review my lovelies and tell m** **e what you thought! Unfortunately, the story is almost done- I KNOW, it's been one hell of a ride, but there's only going to be two or three (most likely three) left. SO, buckle up because things pick up next chapter and get pretty….serious.**


	16. Chapter 16

**Another long chap to make up for the wait and also the storm of reviews you guys left last chap! Love you all and continue spamming, and screaming at me with comments- I enjoy it SO MUCH.**

 **(I DO NOT OWN PITCH PERFECT NOR THE SONGS MENTIONED)**

* * *

 **Chapter Sixteen: Rising From The Ashes**

 **30 days until Blood Moon**

There's a slight chance you may be broken.

Actually, correction.

You _know_ you're broken because if your were a properly functioning, human being, you _wouldn't_ be stuck in this permanent _spell_ Beca has casted you under as you two make way out to the deeper ends of the forest next to her cabin. You'd be focused on the fact she's carrying around her infamous butterfly knife, not breaking a sweat as she flips it in all different directions across her hands while you follow _somewhat_ close behind as you fight off the string of yawns and the urge to pass out cold.

You'd focus on how the hell she convinced you to wake up at six in the morning on the weekend to go training because, " _shits getting real, Chloe, and I'm sorry I want my girlfriend around for a long time because she's great in bed and not served on a silver platter for a army of witches."_ And you'd _definitely_ be focused on the fact you are carrying the world's heaviest rifle-which is _batshit_ **crazy** just by the classification of the weapon- after Beca insisted on you carrying it out to the spot she's leading you in.

Of course, Beca's a romantic at heart, _duh_ , which is one of the reasons why you're slugging your half asleep body through the slightly chilled forest with a gun half your size. She's telling you to keep up in the most " _sympathetic_ " way, and you desperately try not to pull a muscle attempting to carry a gun Arnold Schwarzenegger would think is heavy.

And now you're curious how the hell Beca can carry this armor so easily while you, who is visibly more muscular than her is struggling not to crumble.

Either way, you stand up dreaming about Beca's flannel sheets and how you _could_ be smothered underneath the warmth they give with your girlfriend by your side, _sleeping_ , instead of training.

But the _main_ reason as to why you're not in bed and why you have come to terms that you're very much _broken_ is because Beca has a way with her words ( _tongue_ ) and is **so** unfairly sexy it's impossible for you to say no.

And instead of being focused on all those other things; the gun, how early it is, how Beca is _oblivious_ to you struggling, how you want to fall to your knees and **beg** to go back to sleep, you're focused on one thing.

One thing being Beca's _body_ and what exactly her body can do-or in fact, what _you_ can do to her body to make it react a certain way. It's this main issue that stays with you during Beca's introduction with today's training and becomes problematic because it prevents you to hear anything Beca has to say. It's like, you guys has sex _once_ and now you can't for the life of you get your head of of the gutter and stop thinking inappropriate thoughts about your girlfriend in the worst of times.

No joke, you two were watching the cooking channel while Beca was busy working on her laptop in a baggy hoodie, sweats, face rid of makeup and her hair up in a nest of a bun and you _swear_ you never felt hornier while watching chefs prepare smoked salmon on olive bread than how you felt with Beca sitting innocently next to you.

And to make it worse, she has _literally_ no idea what her presence does to your sanity; it was like you were stuck in your own purgatory, overwhelmingly _horny_.

You can see her talking; her lips are moving and her steely blue eyes are fixated on you as she explains what she wants you to do with the weapon she waving around, but the words that come out are empty silence replaced by Ginuwine's song, "Pony" as she demonstrates how to shoot the rifle. She probably goes over the safety precautions for the gun, as well, to make sure you operate the weapon safely, but thanks to you being stuck inside a horny teenager's body, that _might_ just get you killed.

Or at the very least severely injured.

But Beca's body looks _so_ good, and it's even better that you know what she looks like underneath those tight, black, ripped up skinny jeans with a matching tank under a red and black checkerboard flannel the same color as her bedsheets.

It's the first time you've seen Beca wear anything but black, or leather and looks **damn** good wearing it, which could be why you have a difficult time looking away.

You've come to a rather hasty conclusion that all this time you've been referring to Beca as hot, beautiful, sexy, gorgeous, etc. but the truth of the matter is that _no_ description in the dictionary adequately describes the girl in front of you, expertly handling a gun like it's as easy as pie.

A hand waves back and forth above your face that wouldn't shock you if you had drool trickling out the corners of your mouth. Your inner sexy soundtrack gets cut abruptly when you snap out of your daydream now glued to Beca's cleavage under her flannel when you catch the expression on your girlfriend's face and how she's about ready to shoot _you_ with the heavy machinery.

"Are you even listening?"

Oh shit.

You blink dumbly at Beca's scowl she has boring into you like lasers, irritation running high as you assume she already knows the answer to her question. What do you say? Admit to going full on _pervert_ , ogling her body like a piece of meat and tell her the truth? That seems like a logical explanation; Beca's hot, she _knows_ she's hot, and it would make sense why you were too busy fantasizing about her instead of listening to instructions.

"Yes, I am listening."

So you do the opposite because, yeah, makes sense.

Beca's look is wary at first, face stoic, then morphs to smug as she hands to back over the heavy machinery. Can't say you missed the piece of metal and _definitely_ can't admit you heard a single word regarding how to operate the weapon. She signals with her eyes in a, " _go ahead_ ," motion that she's waiting for you to start; your questions are what does she even want you to do how how do you _do_ what she wants you to do ?

" _Ohkayy_ ," your voice comes out hesitant as you situate the gun comfortably and it definitely shows you have no freaking idea what you're doing-which **screams** disaster due to the fact you're holding the largest weapon Beca owns. Humor finds its way into Beca's features, however, as you examine little bits and pieces of the weapon, noting what could kill you and _what could kill you._

Now that you think about it, you're _half_ concerned about your guys' relationship if Beca is willing to sit and watch you do something _completely_ dangerous and idiotic to prove herself right while you learn a valuable lesson to always pay attention no matter how hot the instructor is. Beca's also a conundrum wrapped in a riddle

"Go ahead and reload the weapon like I showed you," Beca speaks up while handing you some sort of block and tells you what to do now that you've wasted quite a bit of time mesmerizing the weapon instead of actually _shooting_ with it.

What and _where_ to put this rectangle object-which, by the way, weighs _at least_ three pounds- is a mystery beyond your understanding. It could go literally anywhere on this weapon, but anywhere you try, it doesn't fit and you can hear Beca snorting at all attempts. Hell, you don't even really know how to _hold_ the gun, but would've if you paid attention.

However, someone give you a map of Beca's body and you'd **ace** that shit.

"Kay...here I go," you announce unconfidently, slightly hoping Beca will stop you before you try something stupid, but by the looks of it, she seems more impatient than concerned with what you're stalling to do.

You try to think back to all the video games you've played with your brothers; you sucked at all of them, but first person shooting games allowed the player to see how a gun was reloaded, at least. Too bad it does _nothing_ to help you in your current situation because all you can think about is Clay and Carter yelling at you to shoot instead of running away where you'd eventually fall off a cliff and die ( _unwanted anxiety, thank you_ ).

You then try to think about Beca walking through these steps, though you don't remember her shoving a smaller piece of metal into a _bigger_ piece of metal, like, at all. As you think back, however, your mind goes fuzzy when you picture Beca with the barrel of the gun pressed against her shoulder as she gets in stance, her aiming at nothing specific in the forest and her cute little butt looking **oh so** squeezable in those tight jeans she's wearing and _dammit_!

You got off track again!

"I'm going to be honest with you," you drop the facade real quick just as fast as you drop the heavy weapon to hang at the side of your body. "I have no idea what to do with this because I was too busy looking at your butt to even be listening to instructions."

Beca is taking way to much pleasure by the arch in her eyebrows over a curling smirk as you confess to not knowing how to do _anything_ with the weapon. She takes the weapon and the block out of your grips without saying a word and shoves the rectangle into the bottom middle of the gun before rocking it back. Apparently there's a latch on the side of the rifle that you were also suppose to pull back, which she does before shooting.

Without warning after she gets into her stance with her cheek pressed firmly against the stock of the gun and eyes focused into that telescope looking thing on top, she pulls the trigger and about gives you-along with the entire forest-a heart attack by the boisterous noise. At the same time you assume you've lost your hearing by the annoying ringing going on inside your eardrums, a metal can in the distance filled with fluorescent pink paint explodes before the one next to it filled with green paint does the same.

The gunshot echos the forest after she's done shooting; you might be developing the early stages of tetanus but it's okay because Beca shooting a gun is worth _anything_ , even your hearing. Maybe not your vision, but definitely anything else. She offers you back the weapon and you think about declining it this time after experiencing the damage it can do on paint cans, let alone a _witch_ , but she's pushy and your hands end up struggling to hold the rifle once again.

"You would've been able to do that if you were paying attention, which I recommend you do unless you want to lose an eye."

"Stop being sexy and maybe I'll be able to," you counter back annoyed and the look you receive in return makes you straighten up real quick. "Noted," you grumble with defeat, using the top of your pinky to twist around the inside of your ear to dislodge whatever is blocking your way of hearing properly, as if you got _blasted_ with a water balloon at the side of your head.

It's not _entirely_ your fault in this scenario; Beca's distracting face and voice and entire **existence** is the one to blame here for you not paying attention. You're a human woman with hormones, a pair of working _eyes_ and it's only natural for you to get caught up with appreciating this walking masterpiece from the big man upstairs who you're lucky enough to call your girlfriend.

So someone freaking _sue_ you.

"DSA SA58 rifle, 11 inch barrel, distance carries up to 800 yards and is extremely lethal all around." You assume by the foreign gibberish Beca is talking about the weapon you're currently holding like a bomb, not like you have any understanding of what she's telling you. "Instead of bullets, however, I'm working on a plethora of bullet like balls filled with the same potion we gave Aubrey and Stacie to reverse the succubus rum."

You follow along with Beca's explanation and watch her detach the rectangle off the gun, which _apparently_ is where you reload the rifle. She pours out the finger size, silver bullets from the brick into her palm and explains how the type of silver used as ammunition would kill a witch immediately, regardless of their strength or powers. Except, you guys aren't _trying_ to kill your sisters cause that would be bad.

Very, _very_ bad.

Unless it's those zombie looking witches then by all means, shoot the bitches.

"With the potion I create, along with the darts used in the tranquilizer I use and help from Stacie-who surprisingly has a scientist's brain and can mix both of these things- we can make a bullet that will release the potion into your sisters' bloodstream, reversing the rum."

It's news that Stacie is in on the creation of the bullets, but not that much of a surprise knowing just how smart the girl is. She is either good with tossing a pair of blades or stuck in a laboratory.

Also, making every outfit owned a fashion statement and giving a pair of crocs that same appeal as a pair of expensive heels (Jesus, the girl can wear a paper bag and it'd still be hot).

"You're like a sexy mad scientist, who also has the sex appeal and crazy talents of a James Bond with a gun dosed up on steroids," you compliment Beca dreamily, quickly falling under her spell by just listening to her speak.

Beca laughs loud at your very in depth description, but nonetheless is it not accurate. "That was very... _specific_."

"It's true!" You defend loudly with a snicker of your own, hoping Beca understand just how she makes you feel. "You talking all witch hunter like gets me," you pause, voice lowering into a sultry whisper as you tug on one of Beca's belt loops in the front of her jeans, pulling her closer. "All... _worked_ up."

Beca doesn't say anything at first and for a second you think you may have won by the darkening in her eyes, but she smacks your hand away and sobers herself back up. "Get your head out of the gutter, Red." Her voice tells you she's serious, but when you reach for her hips again, her actions and how her body succumbs to your touch tells you otherwise.

It lasts long enough for you to believe you've won, but ends quicker than you'd like when Beca wiggles her way out of your hold and shoves the gun into you hands as a emit a childlike groan with a stomp to your feet who just got punished and is half tempted to start a tantrum in the middle of the forest when Beca orders you to shoot the other paint cans she has placed in the forest instead of undressing you.

"The gun is _heavy_ ," you complain whiny enough to earn a pretty heavy eye roll from Beca who now looks unamused.

"You're fine; I've seen your muscles."

"But the gun is loud!" You complain some more, but this time it's true. Only seconds ago did your hearing return back to normal after the ringing was gone.

Beca's prepared for this, though, and pulls out a pair of earplugs before throwing them at your face unexpectedly. Figuring that the quicker you get this over with, the faster you two can go back to the cabin, you stick the plugs in either ear and all the sounds around you come out muffled.

Beca walks behind you to angle yourself in a proper shooting stance with a gun this big, hands touching places on your body that _isn't_ helping you not think dirty thoughts about the girl. "After we will get into basic self defense and fighting."

Even with the earplugs, you hear her loud and clear and suddenly, your body freezes and you screech above the muffled fish bowl you're stuck in.

* * *

"Wait... _seriously_?!"

"Hit me."

"I'm _not_ hitting you."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't want to!"

"Just pretend I'm Alice hazing the living hell out of you when you were a pledgee in the Bellas."

"Absolutely not! For one, you look nothing like her-way more attractive- and two, I never had the constant urge to make out with the bitch!"

"Chloe, come on."

"Again, I'm not hitting you-unless it's a soft smack because you deserve it."

"How are you going to learn to defend yourself if you don't hit me?"

"Because you're my girlfriend and I'm fragile and I don't want to hit you!" You defend on the verge of tears at Beca's demands.

You've gone through a brutal hour of the basic self defense; boxing, judo, martial arts and another one that you don't remember. Regardless, you've learned how to perform moves in slow motion without actually causing pain to Beca, willing to endure an hour of Beca's _crazy_ training when you have enough education on self defense from the classes your mom made you take. You're sore, tired and extremely hungry.

Can't that be enough?

Apparently _not_ because Beca crosses her arms above her chest, fed up with about everything you've been declining to do. "I'm going to use compulsion on you if you don't hit me on your own."

Your mouth gapes at this threat, blue eyes stretched wide when you look for any indications on Beca's face that shows she's lying. Unfortunately, you find none- only that _stupid_ smirk of hers that is far from being sexy like it usually is. "You _wouldn't_." Everything on Beca's face right now _screams_ that she would.

"Normally I wouldn't because I've sworn off all magic with you, unless it's necessary. Because you're being difficult, now seems like a reasonable time to use it on you."

You stare blankly at Beca, flabbergasted as an understatement. "You're an ass."

"That's right, get feisty." Beca wiggles her eyebrows up and down suggestively. "Want me to get you mad?" She asks when the idea lights up in her head, but doesnt allow you the chance to respond. "What if I told you I faked everything in bed?"

"Okay, that doesn't make me mad, it makes me _sad_ and me mad or sad results in tears streaming down my face and I don't think you want to handle that right now," you explain with edge, slightly concerned whether or not what Beca just told you was a lie or not.

But Beca still has that smirk on her face and its infuriating to look at right now when she verbally calls you a "puss" with no regret whatsoever- _she's so romantic_.

Stuck between a rock and a hard place, you pinch the bridge of your nose, sighing out loud and now tempted for smacking that daring smirk right off Beca's mouth. You take your defensive stance just like Beca showed you, protecting your face with your fist ready to attack and by doing this, instant excitement lights Beca up like a Christmas tree.

After one deep breath in through your nose and out your mouth, you take a swing at Beca and it's easily dodged; your fist swiftly gets caught by Beca before she's twisting your arm behind your back, her front now pressed up behind you. Now defenseless, you listen to Beca's breathing in your ear and can feel the smugness oozing out from every breath without being able to look.

Nipping at your earlobe at the same time a bunch of dirty thoughts enter your head, "and you thought I'd let you mark up _this_ money maker," she whispers seductively into your ear, goosebumps instantly raise all over your skin and your entire body shudders under her raspy voice.

"Oh baby, I didn't know you liked it rough," you grunt from the awkward position your arm is in, deciding to play along since you can't really smack Beca because your arms are pinned up behind you. Plus, with Beca pressed up so close to you, her intoxicating scent of coconut mixed with the outdoors and sweat is just _heavenly_ and very distracting if she expects you to fight back. "I would've done this to you our first night together if I known." Unintentional giggling comes next as you are torn between whether it's from the mild pain and how your arm is twisted, or the fact that this whole situation is a _major_ turn on.

A low chuckle vibrates against your back and Beca's heavy breathing coming from behind only brings immediate heat to fill your whole body. Startled as an understatement, Beca kicks the inside of your ankle at the same time her kneecap jabs into the back of one of your knees, causing you to collapse into the ground when your leg gives out. Hitting the ground is quite brutal; you get a mouthful of dirt, as well as getting it in your eyes and you are _positive_ you got the wind knocked out of you by the sharp gasp you release as soon as your stomach slams against the ground.

But it's okay you can't really breathe because you crushed your lungs into dust from the fall and is gasping for the slightest bit of air.

Because when Beca flips you around, takes both of your wrists and pins them above your head with strong enough grips that wiggling free does absolutely _nothing_ as she straddles your hips, you don't think you'd be able to breathe **anyway**.

"Kinda weak," Beca hits you _hard_ with that crooked smile of hers and it doesn't help that her crotch is molded to your lower stomach. It also doesn't help that she's kind of bent over you, wavy hair thrown over one side of her shoulders as she looks down and you have a front row seating to see her cleavage. "I thought you worked out."

"I...do...work out," you heave this out, still breathless, but also unsure if it's from the fall or, you know, blessing number _one_ and _two_ pushed up under a tank top right in front of your face. "You caught me off guard- _low_ blow, jerk."

"Gotta be cautious at all times," Beca reminds in a honeyed-tone once again during the duration of self defense training and you roll your eyes because she sounds like a broken record. "I _at least_ expected a fight since I saw you break Fat Gandolfo's arm in the bar and slap the sense into blondie, but what I got is-"

The rest of what she has to say is cut off once you gain your breathing back and show her just how much you work out by using your core muscles to flip her over onto her back. She hits the ground with a surprised grunt of pain before it's you who has her arms pinned up above her head as you sit astride her waist.

But instead of insulting her strength (which would be easy because even though she's the strongest, most lethal person you've met, she's tiny-very _very_ _petite_ and weighs like ten pounds) you kiss her quiet before any witty retorts come flying out of her mouth.

The grip you have around her wrists isn't nearly as tight as hers was; she could easily slip away, but she chooses to keep them up there and instead kisses you back ten times harder. Things from there get heated rather quickly; you nip at Beca's lip, she hungrily sucks on yours until you feel a knot in your stomach growing to the size of a boulder. It's when she's mumbling her complaints across your swelling lips that she's laying uncomfortably on a rock in between swipes of your tongue against hers when you two break away giggling.

"Can we train like this everyday?" You ask with a wide grin as you stand and stick out a hand to help Beca up. At first, you hated the idea of training when clearly you're _somewhat_ average at shooting ( **small** ) guns, but now you don't want to stop.

And you have Beca's lips and their impeccable talent to blame.

Taking your offered hand while sending you a mischievous smile in return, "Totes," Beca mocks high pitched with a valley girl accent in what you imagine she thinks your voice sounds like-which is so _not_ true. "We will learn how to throw a hand grenade- I **highly** recommend you listen when the time comes, or it will be more than a busted eardrum to be worried about."

You feel yourself pale in the face with worry and shock.

 _Did she seriously just say what you think she said?_

Beca's poker face is terrifying as it shows that she isn't joking about this, but the corners of her lips slowly twitch upwards into a smirk at your reaction. "I'm fucking with you."

Relief flushes through your body, but you still want to smack Beca for scaring you like that, so you swat her in the arm with the back of your hand, the only time you _wanted_ to hit her. "Not _funny_."

"It was kind of funny."

"No it wasn't!"

"A little bit funny." Beca holds her fingers up as if she's pinching a very small, invisible ball. A little bit **terrifying** is more accurate. "As if I'd let _Ms. Daydreamer_ over here operate a bomb."

You roll your eyes and cross your arms as you start to head back to the cabin unamused. "I dislike you right now."

"You _love_ me!" Beca's voice is far back, but you can hear her scrambling to collect her ammunition and gun before jogging up to you. Sadly, you love her, like, _a lot_ , even when she's a giant ass, but this time you aren't carrying that heavy weapon back.

She is.

"I'll love you when you give me a full body massage in your fancy hot tub because my muscles are killing me," you say dramatically with a hand rubbing at your shoulder where a potential _bitch_ of a knot is forming. You're no stranger when it comes to exercising and physical activity, but Beca's boot camp is exercise on **steroids,** and it shows with the aching throughout your entire body, more specifically your butt and how everytime you shot the rifle, you felt like you dislocated your shoulder.

And Beca has a great set of hands that serve many purposes in your life other than music you've found out, so why not put them to use?

Expecting a response back from Beca as you continue walking, you get nothing. You don't even hear the sound of Beca's feet catching up to you anymore, but instead you hear the piercing sound of that same damn rifle you two have been shooting all morning. With your skeleton now jumped out from your body with no intentions of coming back, you scream bloody murder at the unexpected sound while your hands make a beeline to cover your already ringing ears- can't say you missed the sound.

"Beca, what the Hell?!"

Beca casually shrugs her shoulders when you turn around, as if she's unaware that she's going to be the main suspect if you go deaf. She takes out that rectangle _thingy_ that you still don't know what to refer it as, but know it holds all the ammunition and luckily, it's empty. "There was one left."

You look out to the other end of the forest where you guys were shooting and just like she said, a new coat of blue covers the leaves and rocks. Rolling your eyes,"you finished?" you deadpan while watching Beca carry a gun the size of her with pride dripping off the corners of her smile. When getting thrown the question whether or not you wanted to date this box full of surprises, not once in the terms of conditions did it mention you were signing your life away to date a _child_. Although, it did mention by a single glance at the girl that you wouldn't regret the decision if you were to say yes to the woman whose fingers are now laced through yours as you two head back to the cabin, trouble written all over her face.

Even with one eardrum busted and an aching body head to toe, you'd have to agree.

* * *

 **29 Days Until Blood Moon**

"Seriously, Beca?" You're unable to keep this comment to yourself when you open her pantry to find not one, but _three,_ half opened boxes of the same cereal (Frosted Flakes) and an empty carton of milk in the fridge when it should be in the trash. She's nowhere near you or even in the kitchen. In fact, she's in her room, sprawled out like a starfish and in a coma, basically, with no acknowledgement that she has _zero_ food in her home.

Needless to say-even though you've only been living with the girl for three days- the junk food ain't going to cut it for you unless starvation or type two diabetes is what you plan on the near future.

You scan everywhere you assume there'd be food in her kitchen, wanting to prepare breakfast for everyone before Beca wakes up, but turns out you're stuck with a teenage boy's diet involving three different boxes of Tony the Tiger, stale sugar flakes, future cavities and _nothing_ nutritional whatsoever. How Beca is able to keep herself up and running with what she eats is still a mystery to you, but thankfully she has a wonderful girlfriend who lives by the food network

 _We definitely need to go grocery shopping,_

"No! That's not a word, Stace!"

Your attention is torn off the empty pantry and over to where Aubrey and Stacie are camped out at the kitchen's island, playing a game of scrabble which _apparently_ is getting pretty intense. Aubrey is wearing her competitive mask as she lectures Stacie about how slang is not allowed in scrabble while Stacie, who is glowing with amusement next to her is defending her choice of word with a smug grin.

"It's a word, I googled it," Stacie declares and is already rallying up her score, but Aubrey yanks the pencil out of her hand.

" **Titties** is not a word!" Aubrey stands her ground and you bite your cheek not to laugh at how red in the face she gets when explaining this to Stacie. It's not a day being a Posen if there isn't a time where she's not tempted to stress vomit or pop a neck vessel while yelling at someone. "Take your twelve points off!"

"You guys are like an old married couple already," you observe from where you're standing; Aubrey sends you a weaponizing glare from where she's now sitting in Stacie's lap as the taller girl reads aloud the rules, but for the most part they aren't paying attention. "Getting riled up about boring board games? Couldn't find anything better to do?"

Stacie chooses _now_ to listen-her and her selective hearing-and she huffs out a response while still flipping through the booklet containing the rules. "You can only do so much while being quarantined with your girlfriend for so long in a _giant_ cabin that results in your periods syncing up, prohibiting all and _any_ sexual activity for a week unless we want the red wedding."

Jaw hitting the floor, Aubrey slaps a hand over Stacie's mouth, silencing her, but it's too late because you've already heard everything out loud, so it's not like Aubrey can erase your memory no matter how bad you want her to. You could've lived your entire life without that scarring visual- _thank you Stacie Conrad._

It does, however, remind you of living back at the Bellas when all thrity of your sisters had synced up schedules.

Talk about a _Hell_ week

"So, you two are dating now?" Out of all that Stacie announced to the kitchen which _flies_ over the drawn line of being considered, "too much information," you focus on a specific label Stacie classified Aubrey under. A _rare_ label you haven't heard the two call each other starting with "g" that holds a lot of meaning, especially for Aubrey.

"Nope, not dating anymore because I don't date _cheaters_ ," Aubrey grumbles, but she doesn't really decline your question, you think, so it makes you happy to finally hear it from them regardless. There's muffled sounds coming from under Aubrey's hand where it's still placed over Stacie's mouth, but by the squinting in Stacie's eyes you can tell she's laughing about it.

You allow them to get back to their game, snickering when you turn back to look through all the cabinets a fourth time for something to cook this early. When Aubrey screeches a " _Stacie, gross!"_ you assume the brunette got tired of the hand covering her mouth and licked it off. Confirmation on your theory comes when Stacie comments about Aubrey's hand tasting like soap and makes a similar noise when Aubrey wipes the layer of spit on her palm over Stacie's cheek.

"Well, Bree, while you're dating a cheater, I'm dating a pregnant teenager living off of a college salary with what I'm finding in Beca's fridge."

"Check the back. I think I saw some eggs and bacon," Aubrey informs you absentmindedly as she continues to play the game. She also lets Stacie slide by with using " **titties** " as a word, which wouldn't of _ever_ happened if you were the one who tried to use the word.

But then again, you know your best friend has lots of soft spots for a pouty lipped Stacie.

Leaving the two alone before their equal competitive nature turns into World War III, you check the fridge again and decide to look even deeper since Beca's fridge-much like everything else in this cabin- is _gigantic_. Just like Aubrey claimed, there's a couple of eggs that have already expired, but it's only been a couple days so you assume they're still edible.

There's also a package of half eaten bacon that you somehow missed the first look around and pull that out, as well. Now that you can make a pretty basic, somewhat nutritional breakfast before Sleeping Beauty wakes up, you get started by pulling out the frying pans and turn the knobs on the stove; a domestic, _homey_ feeling hits your chest and immediately warms the cavity.

You'd usually turn on some music as you cooked breakfast; it's what you were always doing back at the Bellas when you made family omelettes and crepes for everyone, but you settle for Aubrey and Stacie's light conversation to keep you company. Another sound enters the kitchen where you have your back turned and are scrambling up the eggs while at the same time flipping bacon -Bobby Flay would be so proud- and at first you assume it's Aubrey or Stacie coming up behind you considering the time and how early it still is.

But that thought quickly flies out the window when that same presence slides up behind you, fingertips dragging up your thighs to lift up the oversized Corona beer shirt you stole from Beca's closet this morning

You try and _fail_ to keep the gasp to yourself when the chilled hands make way up your stomach and give no warning before cupping the area where a _bra_ would be covering, but decided on opting out that choice of clothing. The hands stay there without moving, frozen and content with what their palms are now filled with and you feel a warm cheek press up against your shoulder blade.

And you _consider_ rearranging the positioning of the hands groping you due to the breeze you feel on your lower half when you realize that all you have on underneath is a pair of very _skimpy,_ laced underwear that aren't supposed to be shown off to everyone at breakfast.

But Beca covers up most of the good parts with her body and Aubrey and Stacie seem like they aren't even paying attention to you guys, anyways, so you let them stay.

"Enjoying yourself?" You snicker and glance down at your chest where there are two large lumps under the t-shirt you're wearing than there was before. Beca hums a tired, " _mhmm_ ," and nuzzles her face deeper into your shoulder, pressing her body closer to yours and is seconds away from falling asleep while standing up.

You stay like this for a while; Beca's hands in replace for a bra is a _very_ nice alternative and something you wouldn't mind using for the rest of your life if it were possible. You figure she's asleep again, even though the positioning is rather uncomfortable, but you learned fast that Beca can fall asleep bent on a _rock_ if she's tired. It's not until you feel her move her cheek off your shoulder and feather a trail of kisses up the back of your neck that you realize she's awake.

"Morning," Beca is late with her greeting, but her voice all sorts of husky and low when she says it in your ear that it doesn't matter. You feel too secure and your heart feels as light as a feather and you just can't _stop_ smiling to care. "You know, before I never ate breakfast as much as I do now that I have you around." Her hands fall slowly off your breasts and lower until they're gripping at either side of your hips; an area far less distracting. You immediately miss the contact and _definitely_ miss the warmth, but now you can turn around and look at your girlfriend standing sleepily in front of you.

You hook one arm above Beca's shoulders while the other one holds the spatula away from her face. "But let me guess...when you _did_ eat breakfast, you had a bowl of Frosted Flakes, also known as Frosted _Sugar?_ " You tease and have a hard time focusing on holding a conversation when you notice how blue Beca's eyes are this morning.

"They're delicious," Beca protests with a tut to her chin.

"There's _three_ boxes of them in your pantry, all of them are opened, as well. I can not wait to go grocery shopping for your cabin."

"Damn that's sexy." You narrow your eyes at Beca, but smile regardless. "I'll go shopping for us, don't worry," Beca informs you in a honeyed tone and reaches behind you, grabbing a piece of bacon off the stove. Side glancing the two lovebirds at the table who are busy laughing amongst themselves about whatever interesting nonsense could happen at a game of scrabble, "what are those two nerds doing?"

You set the spatula aside and reach it up over Beca's shoulders to meet your other hand while she continues to judge silently with a piece of bacon hanging out from her mouth. "Found your board games."

"Huh," Beca stares for a second at the other couple while chewing the rest of her food and you stare at Beca, never once _not_ mesmerized by something she is doing. "Never knew I even had board games." You barely catch that last part, but when Beca turns back to look at you expecting some sort of response, you muster something up.

"They've been going at it for a while now. Aubrey didn't want to give Stacie twelve points for **titties**."

Beca's mouth drops as if she was personally offended by what you just said. "Titties is _always_ a word."

"No one asked you, Beca- **no** , Stacie! _Coochie_ isn't a word and I'm not giving you those points!" Aubrey is yelling at two people at the same time, but neither of them seem to be taking it seriously. You wonder if you should pull your friend away from the game for a timeout before she has an aneurysm, or something equally as bad, like, stress vomits.

Beca shakes her head with a snicker, shoving the last piece of bacon into her mouth and wraps her hand back around your hips. You know you're giving her googly eyes on top of a dopey grin because even though you've _technically_ been kidnapped by your girlfriend and have a pack of witches hunting you, nothing is better than waking up in the morning and seeing Beca's face.

 _Nothing_.

And no one can tell you otherwise.

"What are your plans today?" You ask curiously and twist around a piece of Beca's hair where it's sitting up high on her head in a messy bun. You actually think it's the first time you've ever seen her with her hair up now that you think about it, but nonetheless does she not look _unfairly_ gorgeous.

She also has a great neck, like, a _God sculpted neck,_ which is no stranger to you as you can roughly get a glimpse of the bruises you made a couple nights ago during an _unforgettable_ time.

"About the same as yours," Beca jokes, knowing your daily agenda is blank when usually on a Monday you'd be preparing yourself for class and what not. What part of this whole going MIA, kidnap situation isn't a vacation?

Because right now with a whole day-more like _weeks_ of having nothing to do while spending it with Beca seems like paradise.

"Nothing to do, huh?" You echo playfully and move your face closer to Beca's, pressing the front of your bodies together and either side of her cheeks rest snug between your biceps.

"I want to take you on a date," Beca blurts out of nowhere, but before you can even think of a response she gives you a kiss; a lighter, more _chaste_ kiss that tastes like bacon grease when her lips linger longer over yours.

A long lasting, low whistle comes from the island where a nose scrunching blonde sitting on the lap of a cheeky smiling brunette are enjoying the show you and Beca are putting on-though it was _barely_ anything, much to your dismay. Beca shoots them a classy middle finger as she orders them to get back to playing their old people game and ignores the _unison_ clarifications that scrabble is a regular game for _everyone_.

You ignore them, as well, even though Beca has started quite the debate. You would rather get back to the earlier idea Beca sprung on you, wanting to know exactly what she meant, or if she was even being serious about it.

Because you love her to death and she's your rock, but the girl runs off a permanently juiced up battery filled with sarcasm and meaningless retorts that may or may not be true.

"So what were you saying before?" You ease into the conversation casually, as if you didn't hear the word "date" come out of your girlfriends mouth and can't stop thinking about it.

"I want to take you out on a date," Beca repeats and nothing in her features show she's messing around with you. "I guess we kinda did this whole relationship thing backwards since a date should've been done before we made love, but oh makes us that badass couple who doesn't do anything by the books." You know it's not true because you would've been dead, but you _swear_ your heart leaps right out of your chest when Beca, _Barden's_ _badass_ , doesn't call what you guys did "sex" and also how she wants to take you out on a date.

Still.

Even when you're unable to properly respond back and tell her you'd like nothing more than to go out on a date because you're to busy fighting off the smile that's about to split open your face.

"Why are you looking at me like that, weirdo?" Beca raises her eyebrow up with a small smile; yours is very large in comparison, but you're unashamed of it. More seconds go by without any response from you, "Just kidding, I take back wanting to go on a date because you might be a maniac."

You smack the back of Beca's head, megawatt smile still going untouched and you beam at Beca who's now rubbing the back of her head where you hit her. "You just," you start lamely, unsure how to even word this without sounding like a totally _dweeb_. Somehow forming sentences around Beca feels like hurding a pack of chickens juiced up on cocaine. "You just make me _super_ happy and, like, I've gone on many dates before but this time with you feels like I'm getting asked to do something I've never done before."

"How many dates?"

"Seriously? That's all you picked up out of that?"

Beca shrugs her shoulders coolly, "just curious," and she looks up to the ceiling to avoid your beaming grin and sniffs her nose nonchalant. "But like, a ballpark range…how many?"

You giggle and tilt Beca's chin back to look at you. "Honestly it doesn't even matter because all I want and care about is this date between you and I-though jealous is a good look on you, baby." Beca scoffs and goes on a spiel about how she's definitely not jealous, but it goes in one ear out the other for you because you can _see_ the green in her eyes.

"She's jealous," Aubrey gives her two cents from the table and Stacie snorts her laughter in effort to hide it. What she gets in return from Beca is a drenched lap from where her glass of water " _randomly_ " tips over, wetting both her and Stacie.l before they're abruptly standing up from the stool. "Bitch!"

Beca, without even looking at the couple _once,_ curves up a villainous smirk that informs you that she finds humor using her abilities- _telekinesis_ to be specific- to shut Aubrey up while Aubrey thinks the exact opposite of Becas powers and has a few choices words to call her in the process.

Ignoring the couple in the background scavenging out for a roll of paper towels to clean them up, you shake your head at Beca, not really surprised by her actions. "anyways, I just wish we could go on this date sooner rather than later." For the first time in what feels like years, your smile deflates.

Beca thinks quietly to herself for a second before she reaches behind you and grabs another piece of bacon and shoves it into her mouth. "I think I can make that happen."

Beca grins.

You knit your brows with confusion.

"What do you mean?"

"Let's eat and then I'll show you." Beca kisses the cease in your forehead and heads over to the table to join the others who are still cleaning up the water mess.

Of course, eating is the _last_ thing on your mind as of now and you're the most impatient person ever, but you make a plate for you and Beca before joining the table as well.

You've waited an _eternity_ to find someone as good as Beca, so honestly you can wait an hour.

* * *

" _Ugh_ , it itches."

"Damn."

"Beca, it's super uncomfortable."

" _Damn_."

"Why is that the only thing coming out of your mouth right now?"

"Holy _**damn**_."

Though the flattery is very much appreciated,you roll your eyes at Beca's lack of a vocabulary and attempt to fix your hair into a more comfortable position without wanting to scrape your scalp off.

"You look _hot_ as a blonde," Beca finds her words and you catch her gawking at you from behind in the mirror. "You look super fucking hot as a redhead, but this is hot, too."

As you stare at your reflection in the body length mirror, still wearing the oversized, beat up t-shirt you stole from Beca's drawer that now has a wet stain from doing dishes, you'd have to agree. Not only were you a _sex_ virgin, but you are also a _hair_ virgin; you've never done anything to your hair except for trims, but that's it. You love your luscious red locks and cherish it like gold with all the time and effort you put into it, but the blonde is a nice change.

Nice to be someone else for a change.

Would you ever dye it this color?

Absolutely not (you've already gotten use to the ginger stereotypes, so you don't know if you'd make it out alive when you hear all the blonde ones.)

But it's nice to know that if for _whatever reason_ you had to dye your hair color, Beca would still look at you like you're naked and covered in a million dollars regardless of the color.

You find a position on your head where the wig is less itchy, but still kind of itchy, but at least tolerable. How Aubrey wore this all night at the club that one time when Beca was performing without any discomfort is _unreal._ The blonde is about the same length as your red hair, might even be a bit shorter from where it sits over your shoulders and the color is very _Barbie, Beverly Hills_ blonde.

It could definitely be curled or something, which you plan on doing now that your appearance is surprisingly _different_. Add a pair of sunglasses to the illusion and people wouldn't know who you are.

"Now that the color is gone and you don't stick out like a gorgeous, show stopping, red headed thumb, we can be less cautious when we go out." Beca explains and it makes sense; Gail and Kommissar are obviously looking for vibrant, red hair and since blonde is more common, it makes you feel safer. "We will still go out pretty far with what I'm planning for you, but still. It's good to cover your profile up a bit."

Releasing a satisfied sigh at the wig when you take one more look, you turn around and face Beca and melt all the googly eyes she has glued to you. "And what is it exactly you're planning for me?" You raise your eyebrows up suspiciously, small smile tugging at your lips.

"That's for me to know and you to find out, _Blondie_." Beca sends you off to her closet with a light tap to your butt. "Get ready. You can look through all my stuff and I have more in the guest room."

"For someone who is alone most of the time you sure have a lot of spare clothes," you comment as you examine through the plethora of outfits Beca has to choose from in her walk in closet. "What do I wear?" You already know what Beca is probably going to wear, so you don't ask for her outfit, but are stumped on if you should wear shorts or jeans.

Red or black.

Long sleeve or short sleeve.

You know, the basic questions everyone goes through when picking out the _perfect_ outfit before a date. _Jesus_ , you've been out of the game for a long time and do **not** miss the stress that comes along when flipping through clothes and finding a date outfit.

"Since you can shoot a gun in a sundress and wedges, wear anything you feel comfortable in." Beca sneaks up behind you and wraps her arms around your waist while you search her closet, not even putting a dent into what she has to choose from.

Comfortable a month ago would usually be something _summer-y,_ like a dress the color that would match your nail polish on your toes and you probably matched this outfit with a pair of the nicest wedges you owned.

But thinking about dresses right now is unappealing and, honestly, makes you a little nauseous.

Comfortable now seems to be a pair of denim light blue, high waisted jean shorts, a tight and plain black tank top to tuck in, hair curled, lips layered with burgundy lipstick and finished off with a pair of high top chucks that you find deep in Beca's closet.

Yeah, this look suits you _a lot_ better.

And Beca completely agrees by the widening in her eyes when she checks up on you after her shower and how you've once again left her rendered speechless.

* * *

True to her word, Beca takes you out on a date.

You didn't really know what to expect from her when she mentioned this her is first time _ever_ taking someone out on a date, but you knew it would be spontaneous and amazing regardless of what she chooses because that's just her personality.

And you are definitely right about the spontaneous part when you two pull up in her mustang next to her cherry red Dodge Challenger that now looks brand new and drove right out of a car wash.

It's even more spontaneous than originally imagined and fills your head with a thousand questions when you realize Beca just drove an hour to get to a deserted dirt road that goes on for miles. Why she felt the need to switch cars before you guys get to wherever she has the date planned is beyond you.

"Is this where you murder me and leave my body here in the middle of nowhere with no trace for the police to find my body?" You joke and hear Beca laugh about it next to you where you guys are still seated in her mustang.

" _Nah_ , sex is too good."

"Oh good," you reply back with a sarcastic smile and take a look over to the other car next to you guys. "Why are we here with now _two_ cars to choose from?"

"Luke fixed her up," Beca fills you in and you remember the last time she drove the car was when you almost got slaughtered by a pack of witches in the middle of the forest. Gail did a number of brutal damages to the windshield, but when you get out and examine Luke's handy work, the cracks are nonexistent. "I hope you remember how to drive her because we are racing."

" _Pardon_?" Um what. Did she just say you two are racing? "Did you say _**racing**_?" Beca bobs her head up and down like a toy you'd see on dashboards of cars, messing around the _last_ thing glowing on her face. "Is this what you had in mind for our date? To kill me before it actually starts?"

Beca bobs her head again, curving up a devilish smile that's up to no good. "About a mile straight, nothing but dirt, so I promise you won't die." She points in the general direction which apparently is also the racetrack you two are going to be following; you're still waiting for the punchline. "I think I will be fun. Plus, I've always wanted to see you drive one of my cars; it's a constant view I see in my wet dreams and I'm sick of waking up sweating and turned on."

"You _have_ seen me drive before," you remind with an eye roll, but can't stop the smile from peeking through because Beca's raunchy humor is too much. It was the same time where you stalled her mustang because driving stick is awful and you also drove her Dodge Challenger before you got poisoned by Gail. Both are times that brings back bad memories. "Also, you're like a tiny, grungy Vin Diesel in a car, which is _not_ fair."

"Oh come on," Beca cooes at you in a tempting way that becalmed even more tempting when she grabs at your hips and greets you with one of her crooked smiles that you've become so _embarrassingly_ weak for. "I think it will be fun; I promise it's a straight drive, about a mile and a half until we pass a barn then, boom. We are done," she explains a little more in depth, hope and excitement glinting in her eyes.

The thought of going above 80mph gives you anxiety; you even had this problem in your slug bug when you would drive home on the highways.

But going above 80mph in Beca's super fancy and super **fast** sports car… _omg_.

"It's not like a drag race through a complicated course; it's literally a straight drive, the _only_ straight thing we are doing together."

You giggle at the joke ( _aint that right?_ ) but you sober pretty quickly when your skepticism comes back. "But," you're hesitant to agree, half because the idea terrifies you to no other, but also it arouses you in daredevil type of way. "I've never raced anybody before."

"Neither have I," Beca says at first, but then shakes her head, telling you to erase everything she just said. "Kidding, I raced Luke a long time ago in Nashville on two new crotch rockets, but that's besides the point."

You think you have a minor stroke at the vision of Beca racing on a motorcycle, but it doesn't get rid of the fact that you're an inexperienced college girl who _mostly_ goes the speed limits.

"Live a little and enjoy this date I have planned for you, but, of course, I'm not going to make you do anything you're not willing to do." This little comment makes your heart swell; the sincerity laced in her eyes when Beca speaks is unreal, which makes the decision even _more_ tempting than it already was. "But it's okay to you know... _chicken_ _out_."

Your mouth gapes in offence. _Did she just… oh no she didn't!_ "what did you say?"

Beca shrugs her shoulders casually and pulls the aviators sitting at the neckline of her black and white baseball t-shirt before putting them over her eyes. Her appearance almost makes you forget what you two are even talking about because once again, she's wearing something other than leather and her hair is straight for once, giving it a surprising length pass her shoulders. _Yes_ , it's still black at the sleeves and _yes_ , she's still wearing black skinny jeans above some matching chucks, but _goddamn,_ she looks phenomenal in a baseball shirt.

The glasses, somehow, make her entire image _hotter_.

"It's okay to back down from a race if you think you're going to lose; I'd do the same, honestly. Especially with me, you know," Beca replies back cocky and it lights a fire somewhere inside your body that only grows by seeing her smug smirk beaming under the sun's rays. "Since I'm basically Vin Diesel behind the wheel."

You yank away the keys for the Dodge out from Beca's grips when its hung like bait in front of your face, unable to contain your natural competitive nature and would want nothing more than to rub it in your girlfriend's face that you beat her. _Hell yeah_ you're still extremely terrified to operate a car this fast without Beca, but it's also kind of exciting, in a way. "Let's do this."

Beca raises her eyebrows up over her sunglasses impressed, but nonetheless aroused by the sudden chip on your shoulder. "Kiss for good luck? You'll need it." You narrow your eyes at Beca's malicious grin and how she's puckering her lips and expects to get a _kiss_ after a comment dropped like that.

Playing along, you curve up your own wicked smile and lean down as if you're about to kiss Beca. However, when your lips are practically touching Beca's, you reroute your mouth and lick the side of her face before giving her ass a firm smack. She yelps at the contact, but also grumbles in disgust as she uses the back of her hand to wipe her cheek while you skip off to the car you'll be driving and _winning_ in.

The two of you get into your designated cars; Beca falls into the driver's seat of her mustang around the same time you do and rolls down the window while you roll down your passenger window, as well, so you can hear whatever cocky nonsense this girl has to say.

But first, an unexpected gift sitting in the passenger seat catches your eye; a bright and very _beautiful_ gift that leaves your jaw hanging off your chest and gloss to layer your vision.

"What are these?" You ask Beca through a size of smile that almost touches your ears. In the seat is a bouquet of seven, yellow sunflowers placed neatly in a fancy clear vase-sunflowers that aren't even in full bloom, but their pedals are a radiant shade of yellow that's almost too bright to stare at.

"I had no idea what I was doing at the flower shop and the lady at the front _knew_ that I didn't, but she helped me pick something out and you seem like a sunflower type of girl." You hear Beca say this from her car, but your eyes are still too fixated on the flowers that look almost fake to look away. Beca also hit the jackpot because you absolutely _love_ sunflowers, too. "I want to do this whole girlfriend thing right, you know?"

Well, Beca, you're doing just fine. More than fine actually because you're guilty to admit that no one, literally _no one_ has ever got you flowers on a first date, especially big and beautiful sunflowers like these that Beca has surprised you with.

Again, you have no words to explain how mooned you are for this girl.

 _None_.

"I love them," you tell Beca with a watery grin because dammit you cry over anything sweet and _dammit_ Beca just gave you mountain of sugar and you can barely hold it together right now. "You're the best." You think she's going to comment on the fact you're a blink away from releasing the water works by the teasing grin she has pointed on you.

Except, she doesn't say anything but only turns up her the volume on her stereo until Whitesnake's "Still of the Night" is blasting through her speakers and she's bobbing her head to the drums.

Shaking the tears away and swallowing the lump in your throat, you giggle at the excuse Beca comes up with when she tells you that every race needs an intense background song and you'd have to agree. Since you don't have your phone anymore, you switch through radio stations and coincidentally, Cindy Lauper's "Girl's Just Wanna Have Fun" blares through the car and you turn to see that Beca, even under her sunglasses, is rolling her eyes at the song choice.

"Now I'm definitely going to kick your ass," Beca threatens with a type of wry grin that makes your stomach warm and flutters your heart and she starts her car, revving her engine like those annoying guys at school do in the parking lot to show off their _non-impressive_ car.

Except when she does it, you swoon.

And swoon _hard_.

Doing the same, you insert the keys into the ignition, starting the car that sounds just as beautiful as the first time you drove it. You pull the seat belt across your upper half and buckle it in, getting comfortable in the seat while Cindy motivates you through song, tempted to buckle up the sunflowers just in case (which eventually you end up doing). Beca and you share a glance; she's way too excited with how she's outright _beaming_ her set of pearly whites and you can't help be reciprocate it because her happy makes _you_ happy.

And lately with you two combined, happy has been a permanent emotion.

"Loser buys ice cream after dinner!"

"Um, this is a date asked by _you_ to _me_!" You complain through a yell that's loud enough to be heard over the roar of the engines. " _You_ should buy _my_ ice cream!"

Beca briefly lifts up her glasses for you to see the wink she shoots you and it's kind of done with both eyes, but it's sexy regardless and is it possible for your entire body to become unresponsive to something so sexy? "Don't lose then!"

You boomerang Beca back your own wink before adding in, "winner also gets a nice, _long_ foot rub!"And giggle at the dragged out groan Beca gives you in return but reluctantly agrees to it.

Because Beca's hands are very talented in many ways; one of them being personal massages.

"Ready?" Beca taunts from her car, wiggling her eyebrows up and down over the frames of her sunglasses.

You have butterflies in your stomach, palms are sweaty as your death grip the steering wheel, and you think your lunch is coming back up, but you're unsure if it's from nerves or utter excitement, but regardless, "born ready, " you assure with a curt head nod and it's all Beca needs before she starts counting down.

"Three…"

"Two…"

"One…"

" **Go**!"

It's definitely not the traditional type of date you've been on many times before. There's no movie theaters where you'd have to skip out on buying popcorn because you like a lot of butter and butter would make your hand buttery and make holding hands during the movie messy. There's no dinner reservations at some fancy restaurant where you have no idea what to order because everything is so _fancy_ and you have a difficult time pronouncing half the items on the menu.

Sure, those dates had been enjoyable; some more so than others and some plain out _awful_ , but for the most part they were nice dates with nice company. However, one thing all of them had in common was that they were all the same. Literally, the same old song and dance with the same footwork and steps and just plain out _boring_ , if you're being honest. You knew all the plays, knew all the routes the date was going to take and they started to become predictable.

No surprises, no exciting curve balls being thrown.

It was just a _date_.

But not with Beca.

And _by far_ this date-which deserves another word- has been the farthest thing from boring, and instead the most exhilarating and plain out memorable date you've been on and it just started.

Once your foot slams on the accelerator, the car takes off a lot quicker than you prepared yourself for, luckily you don't get whiplash from the violent jerk. Beca's next to you for the most part; both engines roar into the open, echoing the area while the tires drag against the gravel and dirt, creating a large dust storm when you look in the rear view mirror. Before you know it and within _seconds_ , you hit above 100 mph, then 110 mph, then 120 mph, then you shoot pass 160 mph when you think it's the fastest the car can go, but now you've gained a good lead on Beca.

Which is a damn miracle.

It's not much, but you're definitely ahead and you're _definitely_ freaking out because not even if you wanted to go this fast your slug bug wouldn't come **close** to hitting this speed. You almost feel like the car is gliding on water because you're going so fast. So fast that the barn Beca was talking about is in plain sight not even a minute into the race.

You press your foot down on the accelerator further, even though the pedal is pushed as far as it can go, but you do anything to win this race when the front of Beca's mustang is seen in your peripherals and you can hear the shifts in gears from the outside. There's a brief period where you begin to panic about whether or not you'll be able to stop the car once you pass the barn and if there's like a dead end you're more than likely to crash into.

But you're winning, for now, and that's all that really matters; you're not even _thinking_ about slamming on the breaks just yet.

In a blink of a second, you pass the barn at the speed of 168 mph; Beca's hood of the car not passing you once and you cheer a victorious, "Hell yeah!" to yourself when you realize you just won your first _real_ race that your brothers would do anything in the world just to participate in.

And also how you didn't die in the process, which emits another scream of relief.

Fast and furious better watch out cause there's new competition on the streets.

The car eventually slows, which you didn't even think would be possible with how fast the speed got up to, but the needle eventually teeters towards the left on the gauge into a more reasonable speed. Once the car is fully stopped and Cindy's voice is interrupted by those annoying radio commercials, your hands shake with adrenaline, your heart is beating so fast you can feel your pulse in your throat, your breath is labored in heavy pants and you are on other level of ecstasy where you can see sounds and hear colors.

"Holy shit," you breathe out heavy, a mixture of amazement and pure shock dripping from your words at what you just did. There's even a period where you feel like you might pass out from the intense spike in your blood pressure and how your hands are cemented to the steering wheel with how hard you're squeezing.

You're almost positive that you blacked out for majority of the race, driven by exhilaration and fear, but when you snap out of whatever trance you fall into and see Beca wearing pride on her face leaned up against her car, sporting an unrestrained smile that only adds to your rush, you hop out of the car with only one thing on your mind.

And it takes about half a second to jog over to Beca, jump up into her arms and slam your lips into hers like some cliche, high school couple kissing in a movie before the credits roll.

And to make it worse, she starts spinning you around while not breaking the kiss, teeth clank together from laughing and you have this erratic _buzz_ vibrating throughout your entire body that you're sure Beca can feel with where her lips are smashed against yours.

But you have way too much adrenaline coursing through your veins to do anything else other than to kiss your girlfriend like it's your last few seconds on Earth.

Kiss your girlfriend who single handedly gave you the best damn date you've ever been on and you don't know what it will take to ever express how _alive_ you feel in this moment.

And the date isn't even over, which brings even more excitement to flood your body and you kiss her even harder until you're positive both sets of lips will be bruised and swollen when you two separate.

Best victory reward _ever_.

You wrap your legs around Beca's waist and arms above her shoulders for support as she kisses you back equally as aggressive, the fear of floating away running through your head. Her hands find the back of your thighs to hold you up, but then inch up your skin until both palms are gripping at both back pockets on your jean shorts.

You whimper a sound at the new positioning of her hands and you feel her smile across your lips, only briefly interrupting the rhythmic alterations you two found when taking turns sucking on each other's lips. Your nose bumps awkwardly against the frames of Beca's glasses, but you don't let them interfere too much when you swipe your tongue roughly against Beca's, tasting a mixture of the Monster she cracked open on the drive over and the coconut and pear chapstick she has on.

"I beat you," you mumble breathlessly across Beca's lips before getting lost in the kiss again when you realize that not only did you win the race, but you also win with who you have as girlfriend.

Because she is just incredible.

Plain and simple.

And you can't _wait_ to show the whole world just how incredibly lucky you are to have a girl like her.

"You sure did," is Beca's husky reply back against your cocky smile, her voice equally as breathless as she pants into your mouth, chest rising high into yours before it falls back into position. You feel her lick her lips, tongue just barely grazing over yours and her grips over your butt tighten. "God, I _fucking_ love you so _fucking_ much." Beca growls this into your mouth and you don't have much time to react before she flips you around so that your back is roughly pinned up against her car, similar to the first time you made out against the shed at the Bellas' rush.

It is your favorite position by far that Beca has the strength to kiss you in, no matter if the side mirror is awkwardly stabbing you in the back and the black pain is burning through the material of your tank top. You don't have to think about the pain too much because Beca does this thing with her tongue that ultimately makes you forget what day it is.

Her lips start to slow, the rhythm a more languid speed that tightens your stomach muscles and you're perfectly content with stripping off your clothes right here in plain view when your arousal catches up with you.

"As much...as I'd love," Beca mumbles raspy in between kisses, her hot breath mashing with yours. You notice her trying to ignore the way your hips start to grind against her stomach where your legs are crossed by placing one of her hands on your hips, stilling the movements. "To do this all day and night, we have more to do," she tells you, but her actions say otherwise when that hand on your hip inches up your stomach to grope your breast covered by the black tank top you're wearing.

And she starts kissing you again despite her request to leave, but her kisses fall down towards your neck against the black choker you're wearing; an accessory that Beca took time out to say, " _you look so fucking sexy right now."_

"Your voice says you wanna leave but your hands tell me otherwise," you try to make this comment come out more teasing than sexual, but you fail _miserably_ when you have to gasp out the words during the time your eyes roll to the back of your head as Beca sucks _violently_ on the base of your throat.

Oh how you'd want nothing more than to have Beca take you right then and there on the hood of her car without a care in the world that you two are _visibly_ going at it in public for all to see. Though the public thing doesn't matter too much because nothing, let alone _people_ are surrounding you except for country dirt road.

But the idea of "more to do" excites you and so you uncross your legs, hopping onto the ground with minor stumbling to catch your balance and flick off Beca's hand still covering your chest.

"How's my face?" Beca asks while taking a look at her reflection in the car's window. "I don't want to go anywhere with lipstick all over my face."

You assure her that _none_ got on her face despite the heavy makeout session and she has a hard time believing this. "Lipsense, babe. This shit is the real deal." It's true; you have a serious process to go through when the time comes to take off your lipstick, but until then none of its coming off.

"Well that's good to know that I wont mess up your lipstick if I want to randomly kiss you throughout the date." Your breath hitches at the obvious way Beca is staring at your lips and ignore the urge to kiss her again because if you do, the two of you will never leave.

"You know what all this winning made me?" Beca raises up a brow, suspicion highlighting her features when she answers back with a ' _what_?' You rub at your neck as if it is bothering you, scrunching your face in pain. "A little bit sore," you announce through a wince. "Especially in the _feet_ ," you play it off coolly when Beca hits you with a sarcastic laugh and you squeal an embarrassing type of sound when she punches at your side.

"It will be you and your hands tonight rubbing your feet if you keep it up, babe," Beca threatens despite the smile she has mirrored off of your distracted grin because you are too busy fantasizing about the massage you're getting tonight. "Ready for part two of our date?"

You snap back to reality, perking up at the mention of second part as you scramble up ideas of what it could be. However, judging by what Beca just made you do-which was something you'd never in a million years see yourself doing- you have no idea what to expect.

"Let's go!" You chirp excitedly, placing a quick peck over Beca's lips and smoothly steal her sunglasses off her face before putting them over your eyes.

"You do car washes?" Beca asks all of a sudden when you walk to the passenger side of her mustang. Confused, you look at her sideways when she bites her lip and stares at you in a preditorial way. "You look _so_ hot right now; I seriously would give my right arm to have a calendar of you next to a different sports car every month."

"Play your cards right with the rest of this date and maybe we can make that happen." You toss a wink over your shoulder, but forget that you are now wearing Beca's aviators so she probably didn't even see it. With or without the wink, however, Beca bites her lip like she's seconds away from pouncing on you like prey, but you just add a little more hip sway when you walk to tease and love the reaction you get when you look back to see Beca practically melting in her shoes.

Maybe it's the blonde hair, or maybe it's the fact you just got done drag racing (not _really_ , but close) but whatever it is that has you feeling like a brazen daredevil is much appreciated.

* * *

Beca surprises you once again when she pulls up to the spot on the cliff where you two usually end up making out in her car, the entire view of Atlanta's skyline on display with no disturbances around. Then she whips out the food you two ordered back in the city when she surprised you with her all time favorite burger shack as she pulled up into the parking lot.

As an understatement, people stared at both of you when the time came around to ordering everything, but it wasn't the type of staring that made you feel on edge with your identity. In fact, you felt on top of the world when you walked through the double doors of the burger shack, hand intertwined with Beca's while the whole place went silent at your guys arrival. It almost felt like a _real_ reaction you'd get if you were to go out in public with someone as hot as Beca-and not to brag, but you two combined received _a lot_ of double takes from everyone who caught a glimpse.

However, the only difference would've been the red hair instead of the blonde and even then you are positive the two of you would get way more attention than necessary.

You two would be _that_ couple who everyone wishes they could either date, or be envious towards witht the good looks, the hair, all that stuff.

And honestly, you can't wait for this day to come to be Chloe Beale, girlfriend of famous music producer Beca Mitchell as they save the world from the scum they call _witches_.

By now you've ditched the wig somewhere in the backseat of Beca's car; you could only handle it for so long before wanting to scratch your scalp away. Once it's gone, though, it's the best feeling in the world when that evening Atlanta breeze hits your hair as you shake it out. Beca assures you she likes you _a lot_ better with red hair anyway, so it's a win win all around.

"You're pretty good at this girlfriend thing," you compliment, nudging Beca's shoulder with yours as you stick a fry in your mouth. The two of you are perched up on her windshield, legs touching as they stretch out on the hood of her mustang while you two share bites of each other's food.

Beca aims to take a fairly large sip of her strawberry shake, but struggles getting anything up when a piece of strawberry blocks the straw. "You think?" She mumbles with her teeth clenched around the seed straw, still attempting to suck up some of the fluid. As for you, you're patiently waiting in amusement for her to choke on the fruit when she sucks to hard and it goes down her throat, but right now she looks _too_ adorable.

You nod your head and watch her successfully get a good drink of her shake without dying in the process.

"Better than all your other dates?" You nod your head again, but this time it's accompanied with a grin. She squints her eyes at you, not really believing this. "You promise?"

"Um, to assure you _no one_ has taken me out to the middle of nowhere for a car race, then out to a burger shack to order hamburgers the size of our faces and large curly fries to go with it while we eat at the most romantic spot in Atlanta while listening to The Cars," you explain through a single breath and take a heavy exhale before continuing. "This is by far the best date I've ever been on, baby. I'm so incredibly lucky to have you in my life."

Beca lights up and it shows in her half smile she directs away from you and out into the city's skyline. The sun is starting to set, giving the entire city and area around you a pinkish, orange glow that shimmers off of Beca's pale skin. The weather is nice, too. Not hot like it usually is which causes you to be wearing Becas leather jacket, but warm enough to still be comfortable in the shorts you're in.

Now that you think about it, this is the first time you've ever actually _worn_ Beca's jacket.

You tuck yourself into the leather, inhaling your girlfriend's scent that laces the jacket and are unable to contain the warmth you feel radiating throughout your body when you realize how special you feel right now to be wearing something so significant and meaningful to Beca. You're drunk, _intoxicated_ without having a sip of alcohol, and you have none one to blame other than Beca who is everything you needed.

And yes that is a reference from The Cars.

"I liked this whole dating thing," Beca tells you, eyes still glued to the city, but she still has that smile on her face that may be brighter than the sun right now. "It was fun."

" _Lots_ ," you add, leaning your head on her shoulder and wrapping your arms around one of Beca's arms that's closest to you.

"I can't wait to plan a whole bunch of stuff for you now. I have so many places I want to take you and for you to see."

You can't wait to change your Facebook status from **single** to **in a relationship with the world's hottest DJ/witch hunter** , but you restrain from admitting this out loud. "Me neither. Maybe next time I won't have to hide my identity and can go out as my natural redhead self," you lift your head up from her shoulder and linger a kiss on her cheek.

"I'd love that," Beca turns her face and meets your eyes, her smile now that it's facing you makes your heart feel like it's going **!** inside. "I'm glad you liked the date, but it's not over yet."

You glance at Beca sideways, conflicted on believing that she has more to surprise you with. You're about to ask what on earth could you guys could possibly do now, but then without spilling or crushing any of the food, she starts to rotate her body so that she's above you, straddling your thighs with hands on either side of your head as she grips the top of the roof.

Your hands automatically move like magnets to Beca's hips; the view of this girl straddling you in that _damn_ baseball shirt and her lip caught between her teeth is doing a toll on your sanity right now. She takes one of her hands and slowly combs it through the front of your hair, pushing majority of it back before it hooks to the back of your neck.

"Look real good in my jacket." Beca's eyes flick down and you follow them before shrugging your shoulders cutely. A not-so-subtle glance at your lips before Beca wets her own is a clear indicator that she's about to show you exactly how she wants this date to end.

Given not much time to savor the intimacy of how Beca's looking at you right now, with the sunset casting down in the background over her shoulder- _God_ , she's jaw dropping- she tugs you in for a kiss; a kiss so slow, so passionate that you physically feel your heart skip a few beats.

"I have ice cream to buy someone, don't I?" If anything were to get in the way of you making out with Beca on top of her car, it would be ice cream.

And definitely the foot rub you get, as well.

"You sure do," You give Beca's lips one last peck and slide off the hood while collecting both of your guys' trash, eager to complete the meal with some cookie dough ice cream and a phenomenal massage.

Best date _ever_.

* * *

 **20 Days Until Blood Moon**

"You kinda remind me of Billy in a way," you say all of a sudden from where you're caught in the space between Beca's legs, back pressed up and laying against her stomach as you feed her popcorn.

With not much activities to do while laying low other than shooting, listening to music, cooking and sex (which you still need breaks from, _especially_ with Beca), you decided to put Beca's _gigantic_ flat screen TV and movie theater surround system to use. All you needed was Beca's laptop, to download Netflix-because apparently Beca thinks it's _overrated_ -and to scroll through TV shows the two of you could watch and you were golden.

With only minor complaints coming from half the party when you mention that the two of you should watch Stranger Things, you were able to trap Beca into binge watching them with you. She claims that she doesn't enjoy anything about it and is only watching them with you because there's always popcorn and chocolate present, but you can see right through her lies and how she falls into a trance when you look at her eyes staring intently at the screen.

You even got your toes painted by Beca in the process. Of course, the color was black since that's the only color Beca has in _everything_ , but the intense focus she had on the task and how she moved as slow as a turtle would on each toe to perfect the coat was _so_ worth it.

And how she demanded for you to wear those foam, toe separators that literally _no one_ uses anymore because, "you're not messing them up because that took me way too long and I'm not doing them again."

Who knew that having a girlfriend would also mean having a personal salon to go to?

You reach up behind and drop a couple pieces of popcorn into Beca's mouth, hearing her chew quietly before she starts talking. "That's not good because Billy is an asshole," she mumbles over a mouthful of food while her hands continue rubbing your shoulders, massaging out the knots you _still_ have from training even though it happened a week ago.

You snicker because Billy is a _raging_ asshole and really you don't see his relevance to the second season, but whatever. There's something that reminds you of Beca, minus the asshole part. "I mean, not his personality reminds me of you," you correct, eyes glued to the screen where Billy is working out and, _oh yeah_ , being a giant dick to his sister, but is still yummy eye candy. "But like...his _sex appeal,_ and how hot he is and how everyone at school when they see him is just... _swooned_."

"Sex appeal?" Beca echoes with a chuckle that you can feel and shakes your upper half. "You got a thing for Billy, also known as the Giant _Dickwad_? Dude probably has a small dick-like, I would have a bigger penis than his."

You almost choke on a piece of popcorn and you feel the need to remind Beca that this type of food is hazardous by itself, but adding laughing to the mixer is death waiting to happen. "Shut up! He's super _hot_ -which I assume is only why he's on this show unless he has some significant role later on in the season."

You place the bowl of popcorn sitting on your lap to the side of you, far enough away on the bed where it won't tip over and flip over to your stomach. Crossing your arms above Beca's lower stomach, you lean your chin above your hands, looking up at her from where she's leaning against the headrest.

"You're missing your boyfriend on the screen," Beca teases you with a crooked smile that never fails to not make your stomach flip and heart race. "Who apparently I remind you of-which by the way, _insult_." She eyes over to the screen where you can hear what's going on, but it doesn't matter. You have suddenly lost interest in the show because there's someone else in the room who deserves all your attention.

"Billy is this rebellious, _hunk_ who wears a lot of leather with a super fancy sports car that he drives like a complete ass, but looks _so_ good doing it," you list off as Beca's smirk only grows wider and more smug. "You're Beca, who is this rebellious, intoxicating and _criminally_ sexy witch hunter that drives a super fancy sports car and also...drives it like an ass, but damn, you look good."

"He has a mullet and wears denim _everything_."

"He also wears leather, which is someone's favorite," you wiggle a finger over Beca's face while she gives you a series of eye rolls. "He also has a nice body, seems to be a fan of the Scorpions and has a very...tight... _ass_ ," you growl at the image, body temperature now spiked up. "Just like someone I know."

"I see no resemblance." Beca's smirk you think is going to be the death of you; she's so hot, which _clearly_ proves your point here.

"I think you do, troublemaker," you chide playfully, smile sort of smushed up and restricted with size from where your chin is leaning above your hands. Beca shrugs her shoulders, mumbling a " _maybe_ ," before you two are lost in an intense stare down, Stranger Things now the last of your priorities.

It takes about a nanosecond for Beca's smirk to transform from smug, to straight _salacious_ when she orders you to, "c'mere," and you basically teleport up her body until you lips get caught in a fiery kiss. She flips you to your back faster than you can process it; the only reason why you knew you switched positions with her is because your back lands on the bowl of popcorn, spills it all over the sheets and now kernels are poking you in the back where your shirt has risen up.

But you don't care, because Beca is kissing you in a way that continues to prove your theory right about how much trouble she is and all you can do is succumb to her.

Your sudden arousal sneaks up on you and begins to take over when you fight against Beca's tongue for total domination. Clothes get torn off next before you're a panting, writhing mess under Beca as she handles your body with such enough grace to match her aggression.

You are definitely going to need to rewatch this episode, that's for sure.

* * *

 **8 Days Until Blood Moon**

It's now nearing the end of October, weeks have gone by and you've been able to binge watch all of Stranger things (season one and two), Dexter, and now are in the middle of Mind Hunter, which you've convinced Beca to watch _all_ of them with you. She's enjoying it for the most part; Dexter has weirdly been her favorite out of all the shows and you're certain to believe it's because Deb is smoking hot with a sailor mouth.

Not because it's about a guy who kills bad people and is basically a guide on how to kill someone without getting caught.

But anyways, she usually falls asleep after a couple of episodes when you tickle her back with your fingertips and you can hear you softly snoring in your lip, but her company is more than you can ask for.

This morning you're woken up to an empty bed, but the delightful smell of bacon and coffee hits your senses; the perfect mixture to make your whole body light up with excitement and your tummy to growl with hunger. You find a baggy, yellow sweatshirt of Beca's with UCLA written on the front to cover yourself with; it's becoming a frequent thing to sleep naked to the point where you ask yourself why you and Beca even bother to get dressed for bed when the time it takes to put on the clothes is faster than the time you actually _wear_ them.

Now dressed appropriately, you follow the smell into the kitchen where you hear muffled music playing softly in the background and the tinkering of pots and pans echo through the hallways. You regret not putting anything on your feet as you wander around the cabin; the wooden floors have a certain chill to them all thanks to the autumn season rolling in strong.

It's your favorite season, by far, especially with where you're able to spend the days watching the leaves surrounding the cabin turn to various shades of red, orange and yellow. Even the lake close to the cabin that you jog around during the evening as a specific autumn tint to it that is peaceful and also a type of scenery you'd see on a brochure or something and something that you'd never see on campus at Barden.

Entering the kitchen allows you to recognize Dexy's Midnight Runners' "Come on Eileen" playing through the kitchen's beat pill and Beca singing along quietly while she flips the bacon. She has on a tight white tank top that is small enough to show her pale, lower back and those two, defined back dimples you've come to love so much when she stretches her arms above her head. She's also wearing a pair of baggy grey sweats that are crumpled at her feet because they're just too big on her and you realize that this is a greeting you'd want nothing more than to wake up to it every single day for the rest of your life.

Since your arrival goes unnoticed by Beca who is too busy at the stove playing Martha Stewart, you step back to lean against the door frame and take your time admiring the sight; Beca up early to cook for you with her hair up messy and has a little hip sway to the music that quietly echoes the kitchen. Surprisingly, she's moving around the kitchen, multitasking with all the different foods being prepared, as if she has done this many times before.

But you for one know she hasn't, which makes your heart soar around your chest when you see her breaking out of her comfort zone for you.

 _God_ , every time you see Beca you fall in love with her all over again.

You feel a tug at your waist that _literally_ pulls you over to where Beca is standing and it causes you to hold your breath the whole way there because that is still something you have _yet_ to get use to. Beca turns around wearing a lazy, wolfish smile and doesn't allow you to speak before her lips are on yours, slow and tender and _oh so_ lovely.

And it's the perfect "good morning" kiss you could ever ask for.

Definitely the most _delicious_ , you must say when you taste coffee and vanilla creamer.

"I don't think I'm ever going to get use to you doing that," you admit breathlessly with your eyes remaining closed and your forehead leaned over to rest on Beca's. Whether you're talking about Beca and the way she kisses you, or the whole telekinetic deal she surprises you with, you have no freaking idea. Both are very damaging to how to function correctly.

"Don't be a creep and stare at me weirdo." Beca snickers and you open your eyes she see that hers are hooded over.

"I wasn't staring, I was _admiring_ ," you correct with a giggle and quickly peck the top of Beca's nose before pulling your face away to examine the food she has cooking up. So far, you notice slightly crispy bacon, scrambled eggs and pancakes that aren't really shaped like circles like yours usually are, but still look delicious. They _smell_ delicious, so that's a good sign. "Admiring how sexy you look while cooking me breakfast. Honestly, Bec, I didn't think you had it in you."

"Well you haven't eaten it yet, so save the compliments for after because there's a chance you might be living on the toilet for a while."

You smack Beca in the stomach, warning her not to joke about that because it brings up _awful_ memories of Cabo, 2015 of your sophomore year of college spring break.

"Thought I'd give you a break from cooking for me all the time since we've been living together and playing fugitives for the past couple weeks," Beca says while turning around in your arms to continue cooking.

"Also didn't peg you as a Dexy fan," you comment with a snicker and head to the coffee maker before pouring Beca and yourself a cup. Putting just the right amount of cream in Beca's and _extra_ in yours, you walk back over and hand the cup to her.

"Thanks," Beca gives you a chaste peck on the lips as her appreciation and takes a sip of the coffee you just made. "And I'm usually not, but when I date someone who constantly sings this shit, I build a tolerance."

Guilty as charged, you shrug your shoulders, not arguing with this statement because you know it's true. At least it's not Toni Basil or Mandy Moore that you're going around singing when you shower, cook, or clean up around the cabin.

Yeah, that's right.

You have a domestic side.

"You _love_ my music choices," you tease, nudging your hip into Beca's only for her to roll her eyes so hard that _you_ got a headache.

"Some of your music," Beca says with a chuckle while she absentmindedly scratches at your back and flips the pancakes over as you relax into the touch. "Like, _45%_ of your music."

"You do not!" You're offended at first, but then she hits you with that trademark smirk of hers and suddenly you're not anymore-which isn't unusual. "Can I pick out something while you cook?" You gesture over to where her laptop is, but plan on going over there to pick out a song _regardless_ if she says you can or can't.

But she gives you the green light, warning you not to put on any, "girly shit or that boy band crap," and you assure her that's not exactly what you have in mind for this early morning breakfast. You're given a skeptical glare as you type away on Beca's mac and her Apple Music account, but you avoid her eyes because you already feel yourself smiling at the song choice before you can stop it.

At the opening notes that fill the kitchen, Beca's head lols back with a guttural groan. "Absolutely fucking not, Chloe!" Beca whines with a childlike stomp when she recognizes the song, but all it makes you do is turn the volume up louder. " _Chloeeee_!"

You sing over Beca's pleas to change the song and dance like a complete spaz to Mandy Moore's "Candy," but even with her hatred over the song choice, she still is unable to keep in her smile at your shameless dancing. Also, because you're in nothing but a giant sweatshirt with nothing on underneath when you catch Beca's attention mostly glued to your legs.

You point a finger in her direction, adding in your own little head bobs to the beat as you sing the opening. Every eye roll you get makes you sing louder, every, "you're ridiculous!" and "we are definitely breaking up!" makes you seduce her with your amateur level dance moves even harder and you have never felt so comfortable with someone else before.

You mumble around the lyrics a bit, forgetting majority of them due to it being an old song and you know Beca catches this when she starts to laugh. " _I'm craving (I'm cravin) for you_ …" you sing in your own type of swagger. "I miss you like candy all the time, Becs!" you shout over the music to Beca who is trying her very hardest to look unamused, but is failing miserably. "She was my first CD ever bought!"

"Not shocking," Beca snorts and now has her arms crossed over her chest, one eyebrow raised and she's pursing her lips not to laugh at the the way you're now serenading her through lip syncing.

"Okay, _insult_."

"She's literally a one hit wonder."

"Okay, insult _again_ , Beca! She totally had Crush, Only Hope and basically all of the _Tangled_ soundtrack!"

"You're such a weirdo."

"But you love me," you say this at the same time you roll your shoulders seductively to the beat of the music, slowly creeping up on Beca to dance on her statue like body with a goofy smile. It takes a lot more effort and time than expected, but eventually Beca caves and you'd tease her like crazy when you find out she knows the lyrics to said song, but you don't want to ruin the moment. Especially when she starts to throw in her own little dance moves that literally stop your breathing when she snarls her her lip on top of that ridiculous crooked smirk of hers.

"I guess I kinda do," Beca says through a genuine smile, hands at your hips as the two of you dance like a bunch of fools to 90's pop songs at seven in the morning and you're so in love it's nauseating.

And so the day carries on without anything eventful taking place; Beca and you enjoy a quiet breakfast to yourselves as you find anything there is to talk about no matter how random it may be.

The bacon is kind of burnt, pancakes are a little undercooked and the eggs are a little on the salty side of things, but nonetheless is Beca's first attempt to cook you breakfast one for the books and something you're more than grateful for. It takes time to perfect a _perfect_ morning breakfast and as for someone who is an _expert_ in that department, you're willing to teach Beca's all the ropes to successfully prepare a five star meal.

When you guys are finished eating and make sure to leave enough left over for Stacie and Aubrey whenever they decide to wake up, you offer to do the dishes-which is usually Beca's duty, but since she took the time to cook, you take the reins. You even try to decline Beca's offer to dry while you scrub, but because her company is always something you crave _minutely_ , you scooch over and give her room to stand next to you at the sink.

A washed dish here, an impromptu make out session there, you guys finally clean up the kitchen after an unnecessary amount of time and eventually head to Beca's room where the two of you plop back into bed and shuffle underneath the sheets. Like a magnet, you find a comfortable position in the crook of Beca's neck while your limbs cling around her body like a koala and she secures you in underneath the sheets with her arms. Instantly, your senses get overwhelmed by the heavenly smell of Beca's coconut shampoo where your nose is submerged in her hair and your body starts to relax against the warmth of her body until the weight of your eyelids is too heavy to keep open.

* * *

The next time you are woken up it's to the abrupt sound of Beca's phone rattling against her desk next to her side of the bed. Groggily waking up, you realize when your eyes adjust to the light that you're sprawled over Beca's front like a starfish, practically laying on top of the girl-your parents really weren't kidding when they said you were a clingy cuddler. The phone rattles against the wood again and it seems to be an important call when the ringing never stops.

Groaning at the noise, you lift your head up from the position you fell asleep in, hair tousled in a sheet that covers your face in the least attractive way and still disoriented when you stretch your neck over a snoring Beca who is still fast asleep and find out who is calling her. Checking with squinted eyes and Beca's arm sliding off your shoulder when you lean up, you see that it's Luke FaceTiming her and with that, you gently shake your girlfriend awake.

It'd be a _completely_ different story if he were calling any earlier and disrupted your sleep, but when you check Beca's phone you caught that the two of you slept till noon and should definitely wake up.

Not that you have anything planned, _per see_ , but even though the thought of sleeping the day away sounds lovely, you want to be _awake_ and enjoy hanging out with your girlfriend.

"Babe," you quietly call out to Beca who is dead to the world, even with you shaking her shoulder in an attempt to wake her. Trying again to nudge the unresponsive girl back to consciousness ( _Gee, she's a heavy sleeper_ ) "Bec," you say a little louder this time and pepper a few kisses around her cheek that is enough to get a returned grunt in the outcome. "Luke is calling you."

Beca peeks at you with one eye before closing it. "And?" Is her grouchy grumble back to you as she tightens her hold around your shoulders, pulling you back down to lay against her side. You shake your head amused and slightly impressed that the girl is still able to sleep with how much she has gotten so far, but the phone is constantly ringing and you might smack her with it if she doesn't answer his call soon.

"Luke is calling you," you remind Beca again and ignore the comfortable warmth you receive when your body presses into Beca's as she turns to her side and envelopes you in a tight hug. With your fingernails on your freehand, you scratch down Beca's spine and dip your fingers underneath the waistband of her sweats, giving the warm skin a firm squeeze she tiredly moans at.

"I'll call him back later."

You know this is a lie; Beca is pretty much half awake right now so the chances of her remembering to do this is slim. And by her tired, mumbled response you hear with where your face is snuggled up in the crook of her neck under her chin, you are aware she's seconds away from passing out again.

You tap Beca's butt a few times and kiss her neck once more before sliding out of her arms and the possibility of being suffocated with love. "Wake up, baby, before Luke has an aneurysm." With your back turned away, you hear Beca's groans of annoyance and feel her rummaging around the sheets before the ringing stops.

"What?"

" _Becky, Becky, Becky. Is that anyway to greet your friend?"_

You look back once you hear Luke's distinctive British accent and roll your eyes on top of a smile when you catch Beca flipping off the blonde through her screen. She asks him with an irritated scowl what he could possibly want so badly that has him calling her so early, only for Luke to explain that it's practically the afternoon and not early at all.

You sigh to yourself at the sight; Beca looks so damn attractive in the morning with her hair pushed back, eyes half their normal size and that gut wrenching raspy voice of hers that it's hard not to end the call and take the girl for yourself.

But you have control and resist these urges even though it physically _pains_ you to do so.

" _Beca!_ " A new voice fills the room and its a voice belonging to a person who you've surprisingly gain quite the friendship with. " _Long time no talk, shorty!"_

"Jade? What are you doing with Luke?"

Both of them ignoring Beca's question, " _you still in bed?"_ Luke's curiosity is high by the sound of it.

" _Was_ in bed, asshole, but someone wouldn't leave me alone," Beca snaps and runs a hand through her hair, now officially awake but not yet in a mood willing to have a conversation.

" _With Chloe?"_

" _Oh tell Chloe I said hi! I haven't seen her in weeks!"_ Jade adds in.

"Hi, Luke… Hi Jade," you greet sheepishly when Beca angles the phone over to where you're sitting off the edge of the bed and give them a little wave. It seems like he is out and about with Jade, driving somewhere is his usual leather attire that matches the girl's, much like Beca's and all the other witch hunters you had the honors of meeting weeks ago.

You figure it's some sort of dress code for this organization Beca's mom created, not that you're complaining because you've never appreciated the color black until you met Beca and realized how sexy it looks on her.

Luke raises his glasses off his eyes and you notice him squinting at you suspiciously. At first, you panic at his gaze, thinking that you were in a lack of clothing to be seen by anyone other than Beca, but relax when you glance down to see the UCLA sweatshirt you still have on.

There's no pants or shorts on in the equation, but something tells you there is another reason why Luke is looking at you the way he currently is.

" _Huh_ ," he hums to himself; you're still confused as to what is going on in his mind right now. Beca seems to be in the same position when you glance over at her and expect her to answer your questions, but can't. He then whispers something over to Jade, which brings a sucsipiocus grin to form on her features. " _Look good, Little Red Riding Hood."_ The wink he tosses you through the phone only adds to your confusion, but you take it that he isn't about to explain what he means by it. " _How is it hosting a cabin full of missing college girls?"_

"What do you want?" Beca angles the phone back to her, irritation and exhaustion highlighting her features as she ignores Luke's question.

" _Your pops is asking questions, mate."_

"So? He always asks questions," Beca grumbles irritated. " _Jesus_ , half the time it's hard to get him to shut up."

" _I don't know, it's different now, especially since Barden has gone full on lockdown since the last abduction."_

"I'm going to go to the living room," you mouth this to Beca quietly and point to the door. Not only do you not want to intrude on Luke and her's conversation, especially when it sounds so serious, but also you figure Stacie and Aubrey should be up and you definitely need some girl time with your sisters.

Beca shakes her head while Luke continues talking to her through the phone and you're about to turn away, but she leans over and hooks a finger at the bottom of her sweatshirt before you can make it too far. Giggling at her puckered lips that make her a hundred times more adorable, you shake your head a place a lingering kiss over her lips.

" _Becky, are you even listening to me?"_ Irritation is now laced in Luke's words and you can't help but giggle when Beca _claims_ he has her full attention, but know it's a complete lie because her attention is glued on you.

However, before you could leave the room once Luke starts complaining about Beca's, " _bloody hormones, mate,_ " and Jade teasing Beca about her getting all soft with her girlfriend, Aubrey bursts through Beca's closed door, shielding her eyes with a hand over them and looking as if she just saw a ghost.

"Cover yourselves up and _stop_ having sex!"

First, after the mini heart attack Aubrey just gave you subsidies, you look back at Beca from where you're standing in front of her mirror with an amused grin, still fully clothed (well, _kinda_ ) and definitely _not_ participating is sexual activity with Beca-though the thought of it seems enticing.

"Shit! Beca, get your hands off my boobs and face out from between my legs-Aubrey you should _knock_!"

"What?" Beca, obviously not paying attention to anything that's going on, asks with a puzzled stare that she switches between you and Aubrey.

"We aren't having sex," you assure Aubrey with a small chuckle, demanding that it's safe for her to remove her hand from her eyes. Cautiously, she does this and is relieved to see you and Beca far apart and dressed appropriately, but it doesn't erase the look of terror masked on her face.

"Professor Mitchell is here!"

You pale at this little bit of information and whip your head around to look at Beca who is sporting the same color. She quickly tells Luke that she needs to go without hearing anything he has to say before she ends the call.

Aubrey tells you guys everything that happened before she came into Beca's room. How she and Stacie where kissing on the couch until someone banged loudly on the front door, causing Aubrey to throw Stacie off her and into the ground as a reflex. Apparently after checking Stacie to make sure she wasn't injured, when she went over to check through the window who it was banging, Stacie got a glimpse through the peephole and saw him red in the face, yelling, " _Beca, I know you're in there! Open up!"_

Beca doesn't say much with this information and looks pretty stoic in the face; you and Aubrey are both sharing mutual freak outs on the inside-Aubrey looks seconds away from blowing chunks-but can control it pretty damn well. "Well shit," is the only thing she says before slugging out of bed defeated and heads out of the room without letting you and Aubrey know where she is going.

Or how she plans on handling her dad and the wrath he is more than likely to unleash on her when he realizes the whole situation.

But the banging continues and it seems like Dr. Mitchell isn't planning on stopping or leaving anytime soon unless she opens the door, so you and Aubrey follow behind her in tow, biting your nails with nerves when the banging gets louder.

Stacie is already at the door, still looking through the peephole when you guys make it down the hallway. You give Beca a wary glance when she tells Stacie to step back and she'll handle everything, but you have a hard time believing that.

"Bec, wait," you reach out for her wrist before she can open the door, hesitation laced in your voice, but she tells you not to worry and she'll handle this. Whether it's going to work in her favor is still a mystery, but how genuine she sounds when she tells you everything is going to be okay is the only reason why you faintly nod your head, dropping her wrist for her to open the door.

The moment Beca's hand touches the door handle, you hold your breath with anticipation while grabbing for Aubrey's hand as she grabs for Stacie's while you all wait. As soon as the door fully opens, the three of you get a glimpse of Beca's dad, fuming in the face when he is greeted by his daughter, but at the new guest in front of her, she seems almost bored by his presence already.

"What?" Beca asks casually, annoyance laced in her question and how she crosses her arms, unaffected by her father's threatening scowl while on the other hand, you're about ready to pass out from fear. You've only ever seen him back at Barden as the upbeat, Comparative Literature professor who weirdly seemed to wear a smile more often than his daughter, but right now you're faced with an entirely new person.

And this person is _quite_ terrifying.

"Don't _what_ me, Rebeca," Dr. Mitchell snaps, but again, Beca could really care less when her hip dips to match the unamused mask on her face. "I know what you're doing here-what your whole _plan_ is."

Without approval, he pushes his way pass Beca and paces the front entree of the cabin, a hand pinching at the bridge of his nose until he notices everyone else's presences. He gives all of you a skeptical glance, but it doesn't take long before he releases a heavy sigh and extends his hand, palm up hand pointed in your direction.

"I _knew_ it. Kidnapping a bunch of college sorority girls, Bec? Seriously? Hello Ms. Posen and Ms. Beale. Pleasure having you in my class last semester," He steers away the conversation to properly greet himself to you and Aubrey since the two of you took his class before everything went to shit.

You send off a timid wave when Aubrey does the same, the tension at least off you guys since he remembers the two of you as students and doesn't look like he's about to pop a vessel with anger when he looks at you.

Getting back on track, "Barden is slowly transforming into a ghost town-attendance rates are dropping, news is getting a hold of the situation and everyone is scared out of their minds while you have majority of the missing students locked up in your cabin!"

It stuns you to hear about Barden; the place where nothing bad would ever happen, but now, it's lost its shine to the campus. You feel like being here with Beca, your silver lining in a world going to shit at the moment made you forget about the reality happening outside of the cabin; the horror Gail and Kommissar have brought to your sisters.

"Since you're _so smart_ ," Beca barks back sarcastically, but her father's eyes are still glued to you, Aubrey and Stacie's form-which isn't helping your urge to pass out cold. "You know what Gail and Kommissar are planning on doing. What they plan on doing to the Bellas." You gulp nervously when Beca announces this to her father; the situation about Gail and the whole witch deal doesn't seem like something he should know and it should stay a secret between the group of you.

But by the looks of it and how it's sounding, he may know a lot more than what you think.

"It's not your job to step in and protect everyone, Beca!" Finally tearing his eyes off you, Dr. Mitchell springs them back to glare at Beca who is now equally as upset as he is. Her jaw is clenched tightly and her fists are squeezed together at the sides of her thighs. "Remember the last time you tried to step in? What that cost both of us?"

Beca slams the door shut with her telekinetic powers, startling everyone in the cabin by the harsh sound that echoes the hallways. You're _flabbergasted_ that she showed her powers without any shame and he didn't even _flinch_ when doing so, which definitely means he knows a lot more than what you expected.

"Oh _bullshit_! Don't go mustering up those crocodile tears right now, Dad," she warns threateningly and it's the first time you've seen and heard the amount of anger Beca has stored up for her father.

You don't know the full story between the two; you know he left when Beca's mother got deep into the witch hunting business and remarried, but that's it. However, by the sudden anger rising up in Beca and the way her eyes get misty from it, you can assume there's more to the story.

Allowing the anger to subside after a deep breath, "how did you even find me?" she asks weakly with a frown, not daring to look her father in the eyes and you want nothing more to just wrap your arms around your girlfriend and hug her until she's smiling again.

Because Beca smiling is one of your all time favorite views, and right now seeing that sad look on her face is physically _killing_ you.

Dr. Mitchell chuckles for the first time since he's been here, but it's not a genuine, funny " _ha-ha_ " type of chuckle. It's more sarcastic and irritated by the dumb question if anything-now you know where Beca gets that trait from. "Did you forget who built this cabin in the first place?"

"I've tried to erase that from my memory," Beca counters back dryly and Dr. Mitchell just shakes his head, as if he expected a response like this to come from his daughter. "But how did you know I had them here? How did you know I was still in Georgia when I medically withdrawn from Barden?"

"Because I knew."

It's not Dr. Mitchell who says this; it's a new voice making an appearance to the scene when the front door opens again to reveal a young woman, probably around her early forties slowly walking inside with a black cane tapping the wooden tile. By first glance, she resembles a lot of Beca's physical traits; her long chestnut hair, the height but still slightly taller, that slanted half smile she enters the cabin with and by the hitch in Beca's voice you hear and how her entire body goes frozen, you know _exactly_ who this woman is.

 _And oh my god are you so not ready for this moment, holy shit!_

In the meantime, however, you fix your hair and straighten your posture, completely forgetting that everything you're doing right now is pointless because Beca's mother can't actually see you and- _oh my god, you aren't wearing pants right now._ In front of Beca's Dad, who can _definitely_ see you right now.

"Mom?" Beca voice cracks when she stares motionless at the woman cautiously tapping around the cabin with her cane while Dr. Mitchell gives her a helping hand. By now, you and everyone else can put the pieces of the puzzle together and assume she no longer has her eyesight. Especially when she takes off her black glasses that match her black long sleeve blouse and jeans and you notice the red burn marks around her eyes that are a surrounding milky white orbs.

The room feels suffocating with a lack of air from all of it being sucked out the moment this new intruder made her grand appearance. It's also deathly silent, which doesn't make breathing any easier, so you take turns looking around at everyone else and notice Aubrey and Stacie's dumbfounded reactions are about the same as yours. You also steal a glance at the same jewelry dangling off of Beca's mother's neck; the same symbol each and every one of the witch hunters you met had flaunting somewhere on their body.

"You're...you're _alive_?" By the waver in her voice and the tremble in her bottom lip, Beca is so close to crying that you start crying first. Honestly, there was no way of stopping the tears once you put two and two together with this unfamiliar woman coming into Beca's cabin and how your girlfriend's hard exterior is basically breaking as she continues to take in her mother's _actual_ , human form.

 _ **Alive**_ human form.

"Of course I am-grandma didn't pass me down the gift of resurgence for nothing." Beca's mother chuckles and you can't help but to feel your heart grow when you pick up that she and Beca share the same laugh. "I did have to sacrifice something to stay alive, as you can see-which I can _not_." She gestures with her hand not holding her cane over the burn marks around her eyes.

Everyone around the room shares a small laughter at the joke; you can't help but notice the type of humor Beca has that is shown in her mother. You also can't help but notice that the tears are now evident as they roll down Beca's cheeks; it's the first time you've ever witnessed Beca crying, but nonetheless does it not erase the fact she's the strongest person you have ever met.

If anything she's _stronger_ now that you've seen her cry.

And definitely human and not some crazy, bionic woman who's fearless of _everything_ and _anything_.

"What happened to your eyes?" Beca's question is barely audible because she's still trying to cover the fact that she's crying right now and the realization that her mother is blind doesn't stop the tears, but luckily her mother is able to catch what she said.

"Oh you know, Gail has a fetish for sulfuric acid. Anything new and exciting there," Beca's mom explains casually, as if she just didn't drop the news that she lost her eyesight by a pretty _brutal_ chemical if college Chemistry taught you anything. "Powers were strong enough to bring me back to life, slowly but surely, but I wasn't able to save my sight."

"I'm so glad you're alive," Beca admits after a breath of relief despite the seriousness of it all.

"Come here, Bug," Beca's mother gestures her over with open arms and Beca immediately takes the opening, falling into her embrace before letting the tears come rushing out. Your lips twitch at the nickname, and how fragile Beca is displaying herself right now when she has been only symbolizing a lion; so much strength, and courage and leadership inside such a tiny frame.

But you now know every alpha has their weaknesses.

"I missed you _so_ much," Beca murmurs through the wet bubble stuck in her throat as she hides herself in her mother's arms. Her eyes are red, making the steely blue color in her eyes stand out more and the glow after she's done crying that is has radiating off her skin is just _beautiful_ look _._

She's so beautiful.

"I missed you too, love," Beca's mom says back, her own emotions rising up in her throat when she speaks.

Born as a sympathetic crier, the tears are still flowing down your cheeks when you catch Dr. Mitchell sporting a weak smile at the scene and his own trembles to his lip. It doesn't help that Beca is still crying, which makes your heart undergo a whole series of emotions. Aubrey and Stacie are also unable to stay immune to the heartfelt moment Beca is experiencing with her mother who she hasn't seen in _years_ and are sharing their own sets of tears while they watch from the back.

"I may be blind, but I can still see you," Beca's mother says as she pulls away from the hug and places both her hands on top of one of Beca's. Suddenly at the contact, she gasps abruptly and her eyes twitch in all sorts of different directions before she exhales all the air that she sucked in.

There's a beat of silence of her regaining her breathing back to normal; you and everyone else really have no idea what's going on, but are patiently waiting to find out. "You're so beautiful, Beca," she finally says genuinely. "Your music, you following your dreams and making a name for yourself. I'm so _very_ proud of everything you've accomplished."

Beca seems confused when she tilts her head sideways and wipes away the few tears wetting her flushed cheeks. "Y-you...you can see...me?"

"Just think of it as another little gift I picked up once I lost my sight." Beca's mother smiles with a nod and _God_ , do they have the same freaking smile, too."I also know that there is a certain someone in the room with us that has captured my daughter's heart and is a very beautiful young lady." It's your turn to freeze when Beca's mom comments this and looks around the room, but of course, is unable to tell exactly where you're standing. "Chloe, right? Your thoughts are the loudest ones in the room right now, girl. Don't be nervous."

Shit.

You forgot Beca's mom is a clairvoyant and _dammit_ , you cannot stop freaking out over the fact that you actually get to meet Beca's mom for the first time ever after being set that it would _never_ happen. And this whole situation is just straight up baffling, taking you blindsighted by Beca's parents without any pep talks beforehand, so now you're nearing a pretty serious panic attack and _boy_ does it show.

Beca's mom takes an unexpected swat at the back of Beca's head. "Come on, Becs, and introduce me to the lovely girl," she demands sternly, but also in a teasing manner. Beca rubs at the injured spot, confused as to why she deserved the hit in the first place, but is smiling nonetheless. "I know I've been dead for a while, but _please_ tell me you haven't lost your manners."

You stare over at Beca for some help who is giving you a watery smile before she walks over to you, reaches out to grab your wrist and walks you over to stand in front of her mom. You're sweating. Like, _everywhere_ it feels like, and you have this constant urge to throw up or pass out from all the nervous butterflies filling your stomach and flapping against your rib cage.

Hopefully she doesn't ask for your hand because holy crap are your palms _drenched._

With a secure hold around your waist that makes the situation far less intimidating, "Ma, this is Chloe Beale, my girl." You don't know whether you want to faint because you're at an arm's reach of Beca's mother without any preparation whatsoever, or the fact that Beca just labeled you as _her girl_ to her mother, but either way it makes you feel lightheaded.

You definitely love this girl more than all the molecules in all the world and that's a fact.

"Nice to meet you ma'am." you awkwardly courtesy as if you just got introduced to the queen of England, but then again it's Beca's mom you're meeting who is pretty damn close to royalty in the witch hunting world, so it kinda fits even though you feel like an idiot.

"Oh no, Hun," Beca's mother declines faster than the words are out of your mouth and it startles you by the quickness of it all. "Don't make me feel any more ancient than I already do. Please, call me Laurie, or Lou. That's what everyone else calls me."

Relieved that you're already on a first name basis with your girlfriend's mom ( _kudos for you, Beale!_ ) "It's an honor to finally meet you, Lou," you admit breathlessly and slowly the amount of nerves you feel starts to subside. You share a beaming grin with Beca who tightens her hold around your waist; her one touch able to give you all the comfort and confidence in the world.

" _Girlfriend_?" Dr. Mitchell speaks up this time and arches his eyebrows in amazement without trying to hide his disbelief. Beca repeats herself again with a certain bark to her tone that never once appeared when she was talking to her mother, but seems to be pretty frequent when talking to her dad.

Her mother reaches out her empty hands. "May I?" You figure she's talking about your hands because with Beca, she has shown to be able to do something magical when she touches people. After a shared glance with Beca and you desperately trying to wipe away all the perspiration on your palms, you whisper something over to Beca that you intended on being heard by only her, but that's not the case.

"Can she see _everything_?" Beca gives you a puzzled glance, not fully understand what you mean by this. About the _certain_...activities you've recently done with Beca that should be for nobody's eyes but the two of yours. By the widening to your eyes and raise to both your brows, thankfully she gets the gist of where you're coming from and actually _blushes_ when she finally understands.

"I'm blind not deaf, Dear." Lou breaks through the mutual panic you and Beca are sharing by her laughter. "I can see everything, but I can also choose what I want and do not want to see, as well, so the private moments you two have will stay _private-_ though it did take me by surprise the first time."

"Oh my God," you groan embarrassingly into Beca's shoulder when your feel that your face is so hot you could cook an egg on your cheek. Great first impression, Beale. Good job. Beca chuckles at your embarrassment, totally not being the sympathetic girlfriend you want her to be about the situation, but she does link her hand together with yours.

"I already know most of your story, hence why I'm here right now at the same time Barden University is in great danger, but I just want to see it for myself," Lou assures you and other than being able to see literally _everything_ that you've done for only God knows how long, you don't see any harm it in.

You untangle your fingers with Beca's and give Lou both of your hands. At initial contact, her hands are impressively soft, but they also have a certain chill to them when her skin touches yours. Going through the same process of a sharp inhale as all the pictures flash through Lou's head in spurts, you assume, she releases your hands with satisfied exhale.

"No wonder why Gail wanted you for herself; your luscious red hair, piercing blue eyes and your purity. You're definitely a treasure." You cheek a smile when all the tension washes off at the compliment coming from Beca's mother; your heart is beating so fast it feels like you just took a shot full of adrenaline. At least she didn't see that one time you snuck into an extra movie without paying for it that _still_ haunts your conscience to this day. "Though your purity is a little... _altered_ now."

"Mom," Beca warns carefully and Lou raises her hands up in defense, laughing at her own observation that instantly rushes all the blood to your face again.

"I'm joking, but very happy for you two. However, there are two other people in this room that I'm dying to meet, so let's get to introducing, Bug. Then we will start talking business about burning Gail's cult down to the ground, _again_ ," Lou chirps with an impatient snap to her fingers and it's Aubrey and Stacie's turn to pale in the face. Beca introduces them to her mother and undergo the same process when they both give Lou their hands.

So far, the first encounter-though you never expected it to happen _at all_ \- is going rather smoothly. Lou is an older version of Beca that it warms you in all the right places. Warren, Beca's Dad, even though he came in ready to blow the roof off of the cabin with his horns drawn has calmed down significantly, and even gave his verbal appreciation to you that he's extremely happy Beca has finally found someone who is good for her.

And now, with Lou Mitchell- _thee_ Lou Mitchell, who is head of this whole witch hunting organization, who has also raised from the ashes like a phoenix and joined your team to defeat Gail a week from now during the blood moon, you've never felt more confident.

* * *

 **If you've seen American Horror Story Coven, you understand where Beca's moms gift came from ;) Also, I picture Kathrine Junk (The actress who plays her in PP2) as Beca's mom...idk why but I do!**

 **We are nearing the end, folks! Blood moon is right around the corner, so drop a review and tell me your thoughts!**

 **OmACAgee- come scream at me and also follow the Spotify playlist I've made for this story!**


	17. Chapter 17

**OMG, I DO KNOW HOW TO WRITE STILL!**

 **Hallelujah! I apologize for the long, very long wait for this chap; it's crazy how the smallest bit of help can give a person the passion they need to push pass a writer's block. Love you all for sticking with this story-it's ALMOST FINISHED! I'm sad. So sad, but it's been a blast to write. This story is a mix of everything; some serious bits, some fluff, and some heated times, but all in all I hope the chapter was worth the wait! :)**

 **Tumblr; OmACAgee**

 **(I DO NOT OWN PITCH PERFECT NOR THE SONGS MENTIONED)**

* * *

 **Chapter Seventeen: Spice Up Your Life (** **Part one)**

 **8 days until Blood Moon**

On the contrary, meeting Beca's mother was a sudden slap across the face, unexpected, and legit _terrifying_ nonetheless, but all in all, it was like meeting someone so significant, so worthy, and so damn _extraordinary_ that the encounter literally left you speechless.

Left you in awe.

Or plain out starstruck after listening to all the hype about _thee_ Lou Mitchell going on around the witch realm like she was a damn celebrity.

It was like meeting Obama face to face, if you're being completely honest-which you most definitely _are_.

And if you guys haven't noticed already, you are sort of freaking the _freak_ out right now, an hour after the initial encounter..

"She looks just like you, babe," you tell Beca for the _hundredth_ time as she blow dries her hair after her shower while you wait patiently for her to get ready for the impromptu late lunch Lou has set up. "Like, she looks so good for her age-not that I assume she's old or whatever!" You panic at the choice of wording, but Beca doesn't even flinch in response and only bends over to dry the underside of her hair.

But if you'd have to sum her up in one word, you'd definitely be using the term MILF as a winning descriptive and not a day pass 25.

You refrain from saying this out loud, just incase Beca happens to hear you and then you'd have to experience the torture of explaining yourself.

Honestly, Beca probably can't even hear the stuff you _do_ say out loud due to the noise from the hair dryer and where you're sitting on her bed, but this new encounter is something you simply can't get over. Already from what you've seen, they both have so much in common. From the way they talk so fearlessly, to the way they present themselves with so much pride, so much courage; it's something that has you for a loss of words.

"So badass," you mumble this more to yourself than anyone else, especially when Beca pauses the blow dryer to yell out, " _are you talking to me_?!" as a clear indicator that she couldn't hear a single thing you just said.

But it doesn't matter; Beca probably already knows where she gets her God's given looks, alpha warrior aroma, and a head of hair to literally _die_ for.

"Can you please thank your parents for conceiving and making such an attractive human that I get to call my girlfriend?"

"Use the word conceiving one more time and I'm breaking up with you," Beca threatens over the noise coming from the hair dryer, somehow hearing this and not the rest of what you've been saying- _jerk_.

Apparently she has selective hearing and chooses when and when not to listen. Is this how your relationship is going to be? You shake your head with a snicker and jump off Beca's bed to search for some shorts to throw on.

One thing you want to avoid for the rest of your life is flashing your butt to Beca's parents now that the both of them are under the same roof as you. You've done it once already-not that you can blame yourself because their arrival was _highly_ unexpected-but you really need to redeem your first impression if you've been granted the chance to meet Beca's mother after getting it through your head that you never would.

"I liked you a lot better without any pants on," Beca sneaks up behind you at her body length mirror where you're examining your now appropriate attire, whispering this low and husky into your ear. "Can't say you don't look _damn_ good in my hoodie though."

You shiver at Beca's touch around your hips when her fingers slip just slightly under the waistband of your black softie shorts; a touch that usually would result in you aggressively throwing her back into bed while skillfully tearing off your clothes without a single care to the world. This time, however, you take deep, easy breaths under Beca's feathering touch across your lower abdomen ( _oh God_ ), ignore that heavenly, coconut scent of hers and stand your ground.

It's highly impressive, you know, but staying focused on the task at hand-which is impressing Momma Mitchell-is your main and only priority.

Even when Beca evilly pulls a dirty move and starts to place light kisses above your skin under your ear, as if she knows the exact spots on your body to turn you on.

One kiss placed closer to your ear before she whispers a seductive, "you smell damn good too," into you ear, earning herself a full body shiver that comes from you.

You do allow your head to fall slowly back when you feel the delicate press of Beca's lips trailing up your neck and her words vibrating across your skin. Gaining as much of your voice as you can, you breathe out a shaky, "you know I'm all for sex with you because you're pretty damn good in the sheets-"

"Don't give me all the credit; you're pretty damn good, too-best sex I _ever_ had," Beca interrupts and you can't keep the small, smug smile from forming. Also because Beca has already said this _multiple_ times during your "adult" activities together-though, back then, she'd be a panting, sweaty, _criminally_ beautiful mess when you'd be caught between her legs and listening to her breathe this out breathlessly from above.

It's, by far, the greatest accomplishment you've ever made to make Beca _come_ the way you've done in the past-can't say you've done it all on your own, however.

You've just had a _phenomenal_ teacher who leads by example.

A boy does she **lead**.

"We are a great team," you twist around in Beca's arms to mutter this face to face. She's wearing just as smug a smile as you are and it's seeing this that leaves you defenseless not to kiss her at least _once_.

It doesn't help that she looks-excuse your French- _hot as shit_ right now, with her newly washed and dried hair all pushed back in the sexiest way, eyes dark with black eyeliner, but not as much as she usually applies, eyes incredibly blue this morning and just looking all around _intoxicating_.

So you kiss her because of these reasons, and make sure to keep it PG before things get too out of hand-the _least_ you could do for that hidden monster living inside you that's unable to resist anything Beca does.

Maybe you let it slip to a PG-13 rating when you feel Beca's skillful tongue grazing across your bottom lip and fingers scratching against your rib cage, but that's it.

You swear.

"We make a _great_ team," Beca mumbles this across your lips with her own re-wording of your previous statement. Her hands now hold against either sides of your hips protectively and she inches you in to press your front closer to hers. "Which is why you have no reason to be nervous about hanging out with my mom. I can already tell she likes you, which isn't out of the ordinary because you're very likable," she assures and gives you a quick, chaste kiss to make you feel more at ease.

And it does... _kind of._

"I know she can be intimidating."

 _Now that's a damn understatement,_ you think this to yourself at Beca's words and snort quietly at the realism of it all. Beca doesn't seem to hear it, so she continues on with whatever sweet talk she has left to say and hopefully it flushes away all the nerves flying around inside of your stomach.

"I'm still a little shaken up about the fact that my mother is actually _alive,_ but I know she's going to fall in love with you if she hasn't already," Beca tells you with so much sincerity that it physically makes your heart ache. "Again, you're kind of really _fucking_ loveable, Red." And this doesn't help the ache in your heart grow more intense, nor the fact Beca is holding you so tightly that you could be surrounded by lions and still feel safe.

You take a moment of silence to appreciate this gift of a girlfriend you have held in your arms, knowing for a fact you've hit the jackpot with this one. You use both your hands to comb through that luscious mane of chocolate locks, pushing it all back for yourself before dropping your arms on either side of Beca's neck. With your arms wrapped above Beca's shoulders, you lean in slowly for a lingering peck that makes you feel as light as a feather.

"I love you," you tell Beca with the same face splitting grin that you usually sport when announcing this-except this time you are minutes away from having your first lunch with your girlfriend's, witch hunter leader and _current_ white witch mother.

But knowing Beca will be there with you the whole time makes it seem a little less scary.

"I love you, too," Beca says this back, dropping one more kiss on your lips for good measure.

"Do you think we are like Nancy and Jonathan?" You ask all of a sudden when the two of you pull away and by the knit in Beca's brows, you can tell she's more than _a little bit_ confused. Explaining this one more time, "from Stranger Things?" The new information lights Beca's features back up, but the confusion as to why you're bringing up a Netflix, TV show's characters still has her stumped.

"As in our relationship? Or the fact that we are a badass couple who hunts supernatural entities?"

"Not quite." You shake your head laughing; Beca is far from being close to what your question revolves around, but the second part is oddly true. "As in do you think why we work so well together is because of our shared trauma?"

"Are you pulling some season two, episode six on me right now, Beale?" Beca looks at you sideways, amusement highlighting her features now instead of confusion. "Some therapeutic, Murray's lessons of love?"

" _Yes_!" You laugh despite how serious you're being right now, but because Beca is laughing, the action is contagious. You also can't get over the fact that Beca-the one person who _loathed_ watching anything on the television-has this one specific episode mesmerized.

It makes you feel good to know that a little bit of you has rubbed off on her (as well as other things, but that's more private).

"I guess to an extent, yeah," Beca sobers enough to answer your question and you catch her getting lost in thought. "I mean, we have more than just shared trauma; we have chemistry, attraction towards each other and just...we _click_ together."

"So you don't think that if witches were not involved, we wouldn't be together right now?"

"Well if witches weren't involved, I wouldn't even be in Georgia right now." Beca snickers, though you don't find this the smallest bit funny. If anything it makes your heart cramp in a way you were trying to avoid-visions of you never meeting Beca is like a _nightmare_ just thinking about. "But to make things easy, if I were to run into you at, lets say a...pizzeria, I'd totally be hooked."

You perk up, lips twitching into a small smile. "Really?"

Beca nods her head confidently. "Oh for sure. You're a show stopper, babe. The whole witch bullshit just gave me enough courage to act on my impulses, because as you already know, I'm kind of shit when it comes to showing my emotions, especially towards hot redheads."

You understand exactly what Beca is talking about and know there's not a word she just said that isn't true. You just hate to think that if it wasn't for the whole, " _my life's in danger and being hunted by witches,"_ the two of you wouldn't be in the spot where you guys are today.

"Wanna know a secret?"

" _Duh_ ," you reply back sarcastically as you walk up to your girlfriend and move your arms back up into position around Beca's shoulders. Guess the two of you are taking a lot longer to leave the room than you expected, but all for good reason.

At least now you know Beca loves you for you and not because of the tragedy that struck Barden.

"I _definitely_ was checking you out the very first day I met you," Beca admits slyly and instead of being timid about this _so-called_ secret, she's smug, and almost proud of her actions. "You were wearing that cute little sundress that showed off your _illegally_ toned, sun kissed legs and gave you a respectable amount of cleavage to flaunt that left me gawking like an idiot."

This is new information, because what you can remember from that encounter is the exact _opposite_.

"We really need to get your wardrobe back from the Bellas' so you can show off in those dresses again-no matter how _fucking_ good you look in my clothes."

You gasp dramatically, mocking offence even though during the time, you were doing the same thing. Also, you _do_ miss your sundresses and now that you got yourself a girlfriend, dressing up nice and impressing them is an exciting thing you can't wait to do. You smack at Beca's attempts to tickle your sides. "You _pig_!"

Beca only shrugs, not looking the slightest bit ashamed when she retorts back a "couldn't help myself" before you tackle her to the bed, giggling like a complete dork until her lips _delightedly_ eliminates all sounds of laughter and replace them with heavy breathing, turning that kiss from earlier into an R rating.

* * *

Lunch goes _way_ better than you could've ever imagined it going when taking into consideration you were having lunch with Beca's parents. Your **girlfriend's** parents who-not ultimately, but are definitely large factors- in whether or not you can marry the girl someday.

"Oh, so you want to marry me now?"

Beca would tease you with that crooked smile of her's while completely forgetting that you're mid panic attack, or damn near close to hyperventilating while you fix your makeup and avoid stabbing your eye out with the mascara brush. You needed to look presentable and cute-not that getting dressed for an occasion is a challenge for you, but first impressions are always the deciding factor.

And a _damn good_ impression is what you give when sitting at an arm's reach across the kitchen table where on the other side sits Dr. Mitchell and the infamous Lou Mitchell as all of you munch down on some Caesar salad with homemade dressing and the _best_ BLT sandwich you've ever ate.

Along with the delicious food, Beca's parents were amazing and really, you had no reason to be intimidated by them. The both of them even laughed at all your jokes thrown into conversation no matter how cheesy and " _pun-y_ " they were, which is like the biggest damn accomplishment you could have ever made. Cooking and baking is even something you and Lou have in common, which instantly earns you a few brownie points to put under your belt.

It helped _tremendously_ to have Beca by your side during the whole interaction who kept a comforting hold on the inside of your thigh while the conversations kept flowing, occasionally rubbing the area for comfort and a reminder that she was there when the questions got tricky.

Without her there for moral support, you're positive you would've had a stroke.

Especially when Lou threw in the, "What are your intentions with my daughter?" question that immediately caused your stomach to drop to your toes and brian to start hay wiring. Having Beca there to relax you enough to answer was how you were able to choke out a confident, "to be there for her whenever she needs me and be the rock she is for me when I need her most. I love her and plan on loving her for a very long time. Witches involved or not."

And there is where you really think you won both of Beca's parents over, which made the rest of the lunch a breeze to get through.

Surprisingly, most the talk was steered away from the whole end of the world crisis involving the daughters of Satan and archenemies of Lou. Of course, the conversation needed to be done; Dr. Mitchell is very concerned about you being involved in this whole situation when you sound like you have your head screwed on straight and almost seems protective of something bad happening to you, which is warming.

You've had him as a professor early on in your college years; he always seemed very fond of you and your hard dedication to your school work and keeping up your grades. Aubrey is another student who he enjoyed having in his classes, as well, much like all the other professors Aubrey has had in the past would say, and now the fact that both of you have technically gone " _missing,"_ but instead are being smuggled by your girlfriend in some hidden cabin in the forest miles outside of Barden is having quite the toll on him.

And here is where the lunch gets _a little_ heated when Beca explains her maniacal plans involving Gail and defeating her witch cult.

The fact that you're brought up a lot in most her plans doesn't settle well with Dr. Mitchell and even Lou has a hesitant look on her features while Beca explains her blueprint idea. Again, they don't understand that, _yes_ , you haven't exactly been involved in a ton of witch wars, shot a gun or had your whole life at risk, but like what most people do, they underestimate you strengths. They look at you as _fragile_ and unable to fight for yourself.

Except Beca.

She always knows you can hold your own and _never_ looks at you like you're weak.

And you love her for that.

More than words can explain.

"Gail and the witches she trains are extremely _dangerous_ , Beca, this is crazy talk-you of all people should know what you're getting into! Bringing innocent girls who have a life to look forward to- a _future_ away from all this cult bullshit! It's bad enough their parents are thinking about suing the school!" It's the second time you've heard Dr. Mitchell's voice raise (also the mention of your parents), first time you've heard him curse, but it's not nearly as frightening when Beca barks back her thoughts.

"I know that I'm putting my girlfriend's life at risk and it fucking **kills** me to do it, but what other choices do I have, _Warren_!? You think I _willingly_ want to put Chloe in danger?! If so, then you're out of your goddamn mind!"

It's your turn to give the comforting squeeze to Beca's hand when you see and hear the anger, the bass and strain dripping from her words. You would've been scared to experience the wrath of Beca if you didn't know her personally and definitely not try to seek out comfort when she's _clearly_ upset, but you _do_ know her and you _do_ hold her hand.

The gentle contact is enough to calm her down-which seemed impossible by the amount of rage she was shooting at her father- and thankfully, she doesn't look like she's about to pounce on her father from across the table anymore. You don't break your stare on her even though she's fixated on her father and she releases a tired sigh in defeat, knowing you wouldn't let her do anything stupid.

Lou catches this interaction, the way you were able to easily calm Beca's temper in an impressive amount of time; it's the same, puzzled look she gave you when finding out that Beca has quit smoking after being offered a cigarette. A look that's almost _dazzled_ by your own powers and effect you have on Beca. You notice that her stare on you doesn't break for a second, not even when Beca starts talking again.

"If anything happened to her, I literally don't know what I would do with myself."

At the shake in her voice and the way her whole body deflates, her dad lets up on the topic, apologizing that he pushed it too far. It takes a while for you to break out of your admiration and how much you love the girl sitting next to you to engage in the rest of the conversations because you're too busy staring at Beca like a crazy person.

But it's true.

You freaking _love_ this girl with everything you got.

Dr. Mitchell sighs defeated. "Do what you need to do, Rebeca, but please be careful." Beca nods her head without saying anything, gripping your hand tighter and you don't know whether it was subconsciously or not.

And you were able to get through you first lunch with your girlfriend's parents, so you can say that today has already been very _successful_.

"Told you it wouldn't be bad," Beca doesn't waste a second bragging about her words said earlier when you were on the brink of passing out when the two of you split from her parents and lock yourselves up in her room. You narrow your eyes at her as you flop down onto her bed, the smirk glowing on her face slowing starting to fade. "Okay, _maybe_ it got a little bad at one point, but you were thinking you were chopped liver or something."

"Because now that I got to hold a conversation with a past professor of mine who happens to be my girlfriend's father, the paranoia came with it!" You respond back defensively, but only gets an eye roll and shake of Beca's head in return. "And your _mom_...holy wow, that woman is intimidating."

"Oh she's a big ol' cupcake."

Minus the witchy powers, tattoos, permanent RBF and the legendary stories behind her name, you'd have to agree completely. However, these things just don't float away, especially the first time having lunch with Beca's mother as Beca's girlfriend, so it was definitely something you had to get use to. Accidentally and more times you feel comfortable admitting, you couldn't get over the fact that Lou could _totally_ destroy you by snapping her fingers.

Once you got pass this understanding;the bubble in your throat, the sweaty palms and trying to swallow down the thunderous heartbeats pounding throughout your entire body, Lou is a very, _very_ nice lady with a lot of charm added to her already likable personality. Almost too nice when taking into consideration who exactly her daughter is.

Beca's hot and stuff and can be a totally softy, but she's a grump.

"Regardless of whatever intimidation there was, you made it through," Beca settles calmly, winking at you but happens to do it with both eyes and you think it's the cutest thing ever. "You even got bold and _kissed_ me in front of them, you dog!" She then gasps out loud and you can't help but roll your eyes even though you're trying to fight back your smile because Beca is _so totally_ right.

It was a quick peck, practically not even counting as a kiss because it happened so fast, but the action was still done in front of both Lou and Dr. Mitchell.

Guess Beca isn't the only rebel in the cabin anymore.

From the bed, you watch Beca's teasing facial expression morph into a mask more serious. There's a beat of silence between the two of you where nobody says anything, let alone blinks as the stare off takes place, and it's Beca who breaks the silence first.

"I'm, like, super proud of you," she says timidly, but also has a coat of pride glowing on her face when a small smile pokes out. A smile like that sends you _straight_ over the moon.

And a smile that makes you want to do _a lot_ more than just kiss the girl.

"For not making a complete fool out of myself in front of your parents?" You ask with a smile of your own and Beca just shrugs to this. "Can't wait until the roles are reversed, babe. I have two older brothers you have to get through." Despite the label ' _expert witch hunter who is basically lethal with a gun_ ' Beca pales at this information, causing you to fall even more in love with her, if possible.

You think you see Beca gulp nervously before she grumbles out a shaky, "can't wait," and turns her back to you when you start to giggle. The sudden tension, however, can still be seen in the way she's hunched over, even with her back now facing you.

Usually thinking about the future was a scary thought, always ending with the big question 'what happens next?' You have to think about graduation, jobs, rent, adulting and all that other boring stuff like _health insurance_ that always made you queasy. Now, however, you couldn't be experiencing more emotions ranging from pure excitement to butterfly stomach nervous than you currently are. Because your future now has one hell of a girl you get to spend it with and you could really care less where you end up.

As long as you're with Beca.

"I love youuuuu," you coo over to Beca's back now that she is busy setting up her music and feel content when she says it back just as sincere.

You watch Beca connect her laptop to the impressive speakers setting at her desk, ready to spend most the afternoon working on mixes that she has to send over to her label back in Los Angeles. You make yourself comfortable on her bed after discarding out of the jeans you were wearing from lunch and leaving yourself content while only wearing Beca's large UCLA sweater from before. The time spent together is mostly filled with bass lines, chops of the hooks mixed into the chorus of different songs and, _of course_ , Beca's heavenly vocals you find yourself drooling dreamily over from behind where you're laying down.

Watching Beca work on music is always so peaceful and hypnotizing; it's not a secret what she can do with her fingers (outside of the bedroom, dirty birds) while making catchy, popular songs, but hearing them up close and personal makes it even better.

Talk about free concerts anytime you want with a music producer as a girlfriend-the _real_ reason why you're dating her.

Which is why you don't find yourself becoming the slightest bit bored during the two hour duration of listening to Beca fiddle around with her music. Half is because she _breaks_ the hotness scale when she mixes music and half because she always introduces you to the new music. She even plays the stuff that hasn't even been release (may or may not be against the rules but whatever) so yeah, you could say that watching Beca work is a _blast_.

About three hours of mixing later, Beca announces that she is going to send over the rough drafts of the mixes so her production team could take a listen and send her any feedback on what she could change. You don't know why they're considered rough drafts when honestly the stuff she just put together is _amazing_.

Like full on eargasm of music.

Beca closes her laptop and turns of all the LED lights flashing on her fancy DJ software setup she has going on. She swivels around to face you, hair flipped back in the most attractive way possible and her eyes are hooded with exhaustion when she meets yours.

"Alright, I'm starving," she declares and pats her stomach a few times before leaning back in her desk chair and the creaking sounds fill the room. "Looks like you found something to keep you entertained." Then she gestures down to your lap with her eyes where one of her gun magazines is sprawled out and about half way read through.

What Beca doesn't know is that you just found this in her desk drawer not too long ago and have instead spent majority of the three hours _gawking_ at her like she was a juicy steak and you haven't eaten for _years_. The magazines are interesting, to say the least. Of course, you have no idea which gun is considered good quality and which one is considered _bad_ ; you can only tell the difference from a small gun to a really _large_ gun, yet you still continue to read the reviews.

But they are pretty interesting, you have to admit.

"Definitely not my Victoria's Secret catalogs, but I would have to say they're kind of neat to read," you sigh tired, closing the magazine and shove the booklet back into Beca's desk drawer where a lot of _said_ guns from the magazine are hidden.

What normal people have in their desk drawers; school works, writing utensils, makeup, chap stick, and other _normal_ items used throughout the day.

What Beca has stored in her drawers; all different types of weapons, knives and a lot of black nail polish.

Closing the drawer and leaning back into the head rest with a sigh, "what do you want to eat? I don't know what we have in our kitchen, but I can totes _Chopped_ this shit up and make a creative as hell meal for us-"

"I like that."

You raise an eyebrow up confused at Beca when hearing this sudden comment, not fully understanding what she could like about what you just said when nothing seemed too out of the ordinary. "What? That I'm about to prepare something Gordon Ramsay would die for?"

"Who?"

You can't help but giggle at Beca's lack of knowledge on the most famous guy who has ever been discovered on the Food Network channel, but since it's not what she's referring to, then you're clueless. "You like what then?"

Sensing your confusion, "that you call the kitchen _ours_ ," Beca explains with a lazy smile, along with the thousands of butterflies to swarm your stomach at the realization that, yes, you did indeed take ownership of Beca's kitchen as well despite the fact you're not even paying rent.

Unless it's being paid in- _not to toot my own horn, but TOOT_ \- orgasms.

Panic comes initially at the realization; you pray that it didn't come off in a creepy type of way. The last thing you want is for Beca to feel the need to put a restraining order on you and your ginger, possessive _behind_. You've heard about the U-haul lesbians out in the world and though the stereotype is high-key accurate, you do not want to fall under that category.

"But don't you think you're moving in with me as soon as this witch stuff blows over, Red. I love you a lot, but you hog the blankets way too much."

You scoff out loud, offense slightly taken by this, especially when Beca starts to laugh at her own joke which isn't funny, nor is it true at all. "I do not!"

"You also snore really fucking loud," Beca evilly adds and stands up from the chair to tackle you into her flannel bed sheets. "Like a bulldog," and she reminds you, knowing just how much you hate when she refers to you as a heavy breathing mut (but they're still really freaking cute).

You try to stand your ground and wiggle away from her hold, offense still taken from both the digs she shot at you and how she accused you of hogging blankets, but you fail miserably when you're engulfed by her arms. Safety and warmth wins against your thrashing and you suddenly melt to a flaccid, swooning mess when Beca peppers kisses all over your face.

You pout into the crook of her neck, mumbling a weak, "I do _not_ snore," to defend yourself, but tighten your hold around Beca's frame, snuggling closer. Perking up from your current position when ammo that can be used against Beca sparks up in your head, " _you_ steal all the hot water! I don't know what you do in there, or that's the reason why your hair is like, _perfect,_ because you spend hours shampooing it, but I really dislike taking a shower in the arctic!"

Beca barks a laugh that shakes your body from being molded against hers, not denying the accusation cause you know you're right. It's amazing how you haven't gotten frostbite yet.

Curiosity lights up Beca's face and soon she's grinning devilishly. "Is this our first fight?"

You flick Beca's nose, hoping to get rid of that smirk of her's even though you're pulling face muscle not to smile. "The fact you leave zero hot water for your girlfriend and would rather have sex with a popsicle? Yes it is!"

"There's definitely an easy solution for that."

"And what's that?"

Beca swiftly shifts her weight so that your back is now firmly pressed against the mattress and she's hovering over you, knees on either side of your hips. All her hair is flipped to one side of her face and the ends tickle parts of your ear and cheek. "We shower together," she announces bluntly and the suggestion instantly heats up your entire body when your horny, teenage boy brain fires naked images of Beca to flood your head. Images of a **wet** Beca makes it even worse. "You know, to save water and stuff. Good for the environment."

" _And stuff_ ," you echo playfully, definitely not against the idea by the dopey grin you have glowing on your face. Nope. No way against showering with your girlfriend _naked_ and _wet_ , all to save water for the environment.

And also think about the extra time the two of you would have to do other... _stuff_.

Out of nowhere, "I'm diggin' this whole lingerie under a baggy hoodie look you have going on." Beca's hand that has been resting underneath your hoodie, drawing random patterns against your bare stomach with her nails starts to inch up at your response. "It's _really_ sexy." At the same time, the corners of her mouth twitch upwards, hitting your hormones with that crooked smile of hers that appears just when that hand gets a full grope at one of your breasts.

An unintended squeak slips pass your lips at the squeeze; a sound that brings humor to Beca when a low laugh rumbles in her chest when you look at her scoldingly. "Your parents are here, Beca!" You hiss a whisper at Beca to warn her (not that she is showing she cares) but fail to remove her hand out from under the hoodie and off your chest because it feels nice.

You just tell yourself that you won't let it go any further than second base

"It's just my mom, babe. My dad went back to Barden because school and shit," she tells you as if _that_ is suppose to make you feel any better about Beca feeling you up under a roof where her mom is staying and has dirty intentions on going further than second base-an action you are trying to avoid. "You just have to be _quiet_."

Your brain is telling you to yank Beca's hand off your chest and leave the room _immediately_ before things get too heated, because you know for a fact keeping your volume under control when Beca does those certain things to you is damn near _impossible_. However, your vagina is giving you a totally different message, hence why you keep her hand under the hoodie and instead try to calm your breathing even though they're becoming more and more labored.

"Think you can do that?" Beca taunts wolfishly and you think that maybe she's trying to get caught by her mother when she pinches at your newly erect nipple and you have to bite your fist not to make any embarrassing noises.

"I thought you were hungry," you mention with slitted eyes despite the lack of oxygen you have when Beca's hand and where it is placed physically takes your breath away. Eyes flutter shut when Beca ignores the question at first and instead kisses slowly up the side of your neck until she reaches your earlobe where she begins to lightly nip at.

All of which are actions that would prevent you guys from leaving the room to go eat dinner.

"I _am_ hungry," Beca finally answers in between nips and sucks to your earlobe, actions that coil your stomach into a knot and you have to cross your legs to control the erratic _throbbing_ happening between your thighs- _dammit Beca for knowing one of your weaknesses._ It doesn't make it any easier to control when her voice becomes that gravely, husky tone you're defenseless against. "And I know just what I want to eat."

By her tone and where her hand has now descended towards underneath the elastic part of your lacy garments when you feel the chill of her slender fingers the _most_ sensitive part on your body at the moment, you have an idea of what meal she is talking about.

And knowing this, you have to admit it's the best on the menu, which is why you spread apart your legs, giving her hand better access to the good stuff and hide your face in the space where her shoulder meets her neck.

There's an uneasy, _dirty_ feeling of having sex with Beca's mom still in the cabin, but the lovely feeling of Beca's fingers doing what they do best outweighs any hesitation you may have. You just have to be as quiet as possible and everything should be just fine.

So Beca, _bon appetit._

* * *

 **7 Days Until Blood Moon**

The next morning you wake up before Beca, considerably early due to the sun barely starting to rise outside, but having no intention of falling back asleep now that you're yawning yourself awake. Taking a peek at your girlfriend, she's on her stomach facing away from you sleeping peacefully, giving a clear view of her bare back and all the tattoos and muscles she has to offer out in the open.

A small smile comes naturally at the glorious sight; a view you wouldn't trade all the money in the world for. Waking up to a woman as special as Beca has been something you never thought you needed so much in your life, but are so thankful you have it now. You rotate until you're on your side, now facing Beca, elbow bent so that your hand can hold up your head as your other hand feathers across Beca's back and you use your nails to scrape at Beca's scalp underneath the mane of luscious hair.

The sudden contact causes Beca's breathing to pick up and you think you hear a soft, satisfied hum of approval when you continue scratching with your nails. You don't even feel bad about waking up the girl from her deep slumber because being in a bed so close to the love of your life and _not_ being able to touch them is a sin by itself.

Plus, it seems like Beca enjoys you scratching her head because once you stop when your fingers and arm get a little too heavy and tired to hold up, it takes about three seconds until she's fishing behind her back for your hand, _blindly_ , and brings it right back up to her head for you to resume.

And you roll your eyes at her neediness despite it being the cutest _freaking_ thing she has done so far in the relationship.

She mumbles something into the pillow where her face is squished up against; her voice low and incoherent and probably on the verge of passing out at any second, but orders for you not to stop.

And because you're not a hypocrite and remember that she never even _thinks_ about stopping when you're telling her not to (though when you say it, it comes in a totally different and more _sinful_ context) you continue to scratch her head and tickle her back until you're positive this time she has fallen back asleep.

At the sounds of soft breathing while your nails continue to trace invisible patterns across Beca's back, you sneak quietly out of bed and find whatever random clothes you stumble upon to dress yourself and sneak out of the room. As quietly as possible, you shut the door to the bedroom, hoping to not wake up Beca this time and head down the halls where soft music, Stevie Nicks, can be heard coming from the kitchen.

Expecting it to be Aubrey and Stacie who are in the kitchen, either making out, making breakfast, or doing both, you're greatly surprised to see Beca's mother rummaging throughout the shelves, the savory smell of spice, mixed with sweetness hitting your senses. Noticing Lou's back turned to face the oven, you contemplate retracing your steps back to Beca's room, mostly because you're still not brave enough to spend alone time with her.

Not even considering the fact that she's a total sweetheart despite her intimidating appearance.

But some alone time with Beca's mother would definitely give you some brownie points, _hopefully_ , and you sure do love to cook.

Plus, whatever Lou is making smells heavenly, so why not lend a helping hand to your girlfriend's mother?

"Good morning, Dear."

Before you can even process your next movement on whether to stay and leave, Lou greets you from the other side of the kitchen where she's at without turning around, ending your inner thought battle.

"Don't get shy on me now, Chloe.' Lou chuckles as she pulls out a pan consisting of some sort of bread that instantly fills the kitchen with a warm, cinnamon scent, reminding you a lot of a mixture between Christmas Eve and Autumn.

"Morning, Lou," you greet back nervously, coming to hasty a decision that you might as well stay now that she knows you're here and would be rude if you were to leave. You slowly take a few steps deeper into the kitchen, nerves at an all time high now that you don't have Beca holding your hand. "It smells amazing in here."

Turning away from the clear glass pan she has pulled out of the oven and allowing it to cool on top of the stove, "my famous monkey bread recipe," Lou tells you with a smile full of pride; a smile so similar to Beca's that it's almost fighting and something you'll never get over. "It's Beca's favorite dish I use to make when she was little, so hopeful her tastes buds haven't changed too much over the years."

As a reflex when hearing something revolving around Beca's appetite, you snort. "Pretty sure that girl will eat everything except pickles. She won't even _sit_ next to me if I smell like one."

"That would be because she ate an entire jar on mini pickles on a road trip to New Orleans to visit my side of the family and half way through the trip she puked them all up," Lou informs you smugly, adding in that she warned Beca to slow down, but she refused to listen.

And now it all makes sense.

"Gross," you snicker, scrunching your face at the traumatizing story that you can't help but laugh at. You watch Lou move about the kitchen, boldly asking if she needed any assistance grabbing a set of plates from the top shelf.

Lou respectively declines your offer after finally retrieving the plates, luckily not breaking any of them. "I've been blind for quite some time; I think I've gotten the hang out it-though I did break half my kitchen the next morning I lost my sight."

You believe Lou; the way she glides so fluidly through the kitchen collecting supplies makes you completely forget about the fact that Lou is actually doing all of this cooking _blind_. It's the absence of those black sunglasses she's been wearing to hide the red burn marks surrounding each eye that reminds you of this fairly _large_ detail. It's impressive to say the least; you even have trouble cooking sometimes at the Bella's house and you have _decent_ vision.

The fact that Lou can whip up a gooey, presentable dish without breaking a sweat is something you applaud. _Geesh_ , can this woman be anymore remarkable?

"I'm a little rusty due to being dead and all," Lou gestures over the pan, referring to her cooking, you assume, but if that's considered rusty, you have no idea what kind of dish she'd be able to make that is considered _top_ quality.

You snicker at the joke. It's so easy to see where Beca got her dry humor from, the type of humor you've fallen in love with. "Well it smells _delightful_!" You chirp excitedly and not just because you're starving right now, but because the dish seriously looks phenomenal. With the stripes of white frosting covering the top off the dome, the cut strawberries and bananas added as a garnish and the glaze of brown sugar yumminess seriously is making your mouth water.

Lou searches for her cane leaning on the kitchen counter while you take in her morning appearance. For someone so benevolent and noble, she's dressed so casually in black sweat pants and a plain black t-shirt you assume is one of Beca's. On her neck, delicately, hangs that same piece of jewelry that you haven't seen her, or even Beca take off-not that it's the most flashy jewelry there is, but the symbol is still breathtaking. She cautiously walks over to the kitchen table, gesturing for you to join her with a welcoming smile.

Bravely, you follow the woman's steps, taking the empty seat in front of her and finding the closest thing you can find on the table- which happens to be a cap to Beca's beer bottle from last night at dinner- to help take you mind off of the realization you're sitting so close to Beca's mother.

 _Alone_.

Subconsciously out of nerves, you start humming along to the song, "Crystal" by Stevie Nicks, one of your personal favorites from her. You bob your head to the guitar strums and get lost thinking about how lovely Beca's voice would fit this song. It's not a rare occurrence that you compare Stevie and Beca; you happen to do this with any song that you know Beca could make a thousand times better with her own cover.

"You a Stevie fan?" Lou comments and tears you out of your little daze, the features on her face show a mixture between the state of surprise and pride.

"Oh totes." You wouldn't be if your mom never introduced the singer to you when you were little and she was busy cooking up breakfast, or driving you to school.

You express your memories to Lou as best as you can remember; your mom and dad the only reason why you have (not to brag) such great taste in music. You tell her about the fights you and Beca have about certain artists, like how Bon Jovi is _definitely_ a better band than Def Leppard and the debate on whether or not "Bohemian Rhapsody" by Queen is the greatest rock song of all time.

"In my opinion, I'd have to say 'Sweet Child O' Mine' by Guns N' Roses, is the best rock song of all time," Lou chips in her two cents and you can't help but throw your head back with a groan, hands flying up as well, causing the woman to laugh out loud.

Such an overrated song-if anything she should've chosen "Paradise City."

That'd be a more suitable choice.

"Oh don't you go thinking that since you're dating my daughter you can go around insulting my taste of music."

 _Dammit_ , you curse to yourself, leveling you head back to face Lou who's radiating amusement. This whole clairvoyant thing is really inconvenient.

You're on the next flight out to spill as many apologies as you can until you notice Lou laughing, not a smidge of offence shown in her features. You feel safe enough to join in on the laughter; you already expected Beca's mom to be wonderful prior to meeting her, but in all honesty, she's _extraordinary_.

"I would never; Beca insults my music taste _all the time_ \- even though I did catch her listening to old Britney Spears when she was in the shower," You drift off at the memory, smiling when you recognize the distinct melody of "Toxic" blaring through the bathroom one morning. What made it better was hearing Beca's voice singing along quite _confidently_ , in fact. "It might've been because I told her I have the best Britney impression, like, _ever_. She claims I'm a bad influence to her bad girl ' _reputation'."_ you use air quotes, mocking what Beca tells you at least once a day.

Lou scoffs so loud that you _feel_ it from the other side of the table. "Oh she is no bad girl-she's as soft as a marshmallow." she waves her hand in a shooing motion, scrunching her nose in a way that makes you giggle. "I bought that girl the Spice Girls greatest hits album and on repeat- I mean... _repeat-_ blared the CD until her stereo player crashed and burned."

"Oh my god," you cover your mouth, laughing at the story; you can just imagine little Beca jamming out to bubble gum, 90's pop, jumping on her bed and shouting the lyrics to "Wanna Be." It inflates your heart and you make a mental note to tease her about it later when she wakes up.

And to also figure out what spice girl she was-your best bet is on Sporty Spice.

You, _obviously_ , were Ginger Spice, your spirit animal at the age of nine and Halloween costume four years in a row.

"I'm so glad her CD player stopped working, otherwise I don't know how much more I could've taken without ripping off my ears," Lou continues on with her story; a story you definitely will use as a weapon if you and Beca are ever in an argument. "But yes, she is not as hard as she thinks she is."

"Oh I know," you agree, snickering with a shake to your head, still trying to process how someone so strong _willingly_ wants to cuddle during the movies you get her to watch. It's literally the only thing that makes her agree to watching them, but you're not complaining. Not one bit.

"She's a dork, but I've never had so much love stored in my body for someone in my entire life. She's an adventure and home all at once, and I still can't believe I met someone as special as she is."

Lou gives a warm smile, not needing to say anything to this.

After a moment of silence that should be a lot more awkward than what it was, Lou speaks up, breaking the silence. "I have to be honest with you."

The bottle cap you've been twisting around gets flicked onto the floor, the main culprit for this happening happens to be the open ended statement Lou just left on the table for you to start dissecting. You gulp nervously-there's _nothing_ good that comes out of honesty, you think, so your mind automatically starts overthinking.

"Beca's an asshole."

Okay, that's a turn you definitely didn't see the conversation taking.

"But I love her so much I'd literally _die_ if it was to save her life, again," Lou quickly backs up her previous statement with words that are a lot more settling and less... _harsh_. "So that means I want what's best for my daughter, as any mother wants. She's stubborn and brassy, but she changes for the people she cares more about and I believe you're it for her."

You don't know how to process this, or what it really even means, but it sounds a lot like you've just received Lou's blessings.

And you're trying really hard not to _flip out_ once you realize this and have to clench your fists under the table not to scream pure hysteria to the point of breaking skin.

When find the words to speak again after experiencing an inner freak out, you're beat in the race by Lou speaking up before you can.

" _Hell_ , I saw it with the flashbacks, and everything you two have been through, but I really saw it yesterday at lunch," Lou mentions suspiciously and you _knew_ she'd somehow bring up how you were able to calm Beca down so easily without any effort. The curious look was written on her face for the remainder of lunch and after and you knew it would be brought up eventually. "And I _heard_ it when Beca, who smoked like a _Goddamn chimney_ , claimed that she hasn't picked up a cigarette in months, no matter how much I tried to make her stop before."

You start rubbing at the back of your neck, unsure of what to say to everything that's being said while the nerves start to come back rapidly.

"I even tried to tell the little shit to stop smoking-that it's bad for health and that precious set of chompers are going to rot out. She told me, ' _well, ma,_ _ **you**_ _smoke,_ ' and I respond back ' _if Jimmy said jump off a bridge into a ocean full of crocodiles, would ya?'_ and you wanna know what my daughter tells me?"

You nod your head eagerly, fascinated with where this is headed and lean forward closer on the table.

"She says that _crocodiles_ don't live in the ocean, they live around lakes and swamp and I about smacked the _sense_ into her smart ass, Chloe, I tell you not."

You giggle at the way Lou tells the story; she has such a wonderful personality, but has this front that makes you want to shrivel up.

"Chloe." Lou leans closer over the table, searching for your hands. You slip them into her's, even though they're sweaty because of the nerves, but you have a feeling this conversation is going to get really sentimental. "I know you won't have any problem doing this, but take care of her." Her voice is soft, but her words come out as an order you have no other option to choose from other than _okay._

Of course, this was your answer originally; you'd always take care of Beca, no matter how much stronger she is, or the fact she all these amazing powers to offer while you have _mediocre_ shooting skills, but it still took you off guard.

"She has the courage, strength, passion, and heart of a lion, but don't let those traits fool you the same way she lets them. Every strong alpha has their weaknesses that they don't believe until it's too late."

Unintentionally, the hair on the back of your neck and arms raise to a stand, a sharp chill passes through the kitchen at the same time Lou says this.

You have no idea where and when, but you've _definitely_ heard this saying before and you can admit, the memory doesn't bring along a comfortable feeling. In fact, it does the opposite, and now that it keeps replaying in your head and involves your girlfriend, there's this petrified hunch running through your head.

She taps your hands a few times before sliding hers away and you notice those foggy, milky irises have a glassy layer over them, and the white surrounding both gets a red tinge to them, as if she's seconds away from crying. You're too busy watching her features morph from a woman who is about to break down, to a woman who clears her throat, shaking off any sadness she had building up and hiding it with a sigh of relief and a few chuckles.

Suddenly she changes the topic, "since you're down here, I can use an extra set of hands cooking breakfast." Lou claps her hands in different mood than seconds before, standing back up from the kitchen's chair and taps her cane in the direction of where a mixing bowl sits on the counter.

Seeing your chance with Lou's back facing you, you release your own breath of air, lungs finally able to collapse and return to a normal breathing pattern. " _Fuck_ ," you breathe quietly and exasperated over your shoulder, trying your best to process everything that just happened. Now, there's an eerie aroma covering your skin that you cross your arms above your chest, desperately hoping to get rid of the unpleasant chill when rubbing your arms, but it never goes away.

 _Holy shit._

 _That was terrifying._

"I'm in the process of making my chocolate chips pancakes with a dash of crumbled peppermint if you'd like to help."

Though the mention and distinct smell of peppermint reminds you of a very, _very_ bad experience involving you tied up to the tree and doesn't help the whole vibe of the kitchen that it suddenly got filled with, there's nothing you'd rather be doing than hanging out with Beca's mom.

Plus, you might be able to pull up some more dirt and embarrassing stories you can use on Beca later on.

* * *

 **5 Days until Blood Moon**

"How...in the world...did we get so lucky?" Aubrey asks from where she is laying underneath her zonked, sprawled out girlfriend who is clinging to her front half like a koala on a tree. Disbelief drips from her words and the way she shakes her head back and forth while combing her fingers through Stacie's hair as she sleeps peacefully only adds to this. "Like seriously, Chloe? We have two, _amazing_ girls in our lives and I honestly don't know how."

You show nothing but agreement towards this statement from where you're laying in the living room of the cabin and also happen to be pinned to the couch as Beca lays fully on top of you. She, as well, is passed out cold, exhausted from joining you and Aubrey in the kitchen while preparing dinner for everyone and being able to make up for lost time with her mother.

After dinner and parting ways with Lou when she announced that she was going to head to bed early, the four of you got comfortable in the living room; Stacie called dibs on the loveseat, which also meant Aubrey was bond to sit with her, but you didn't care because the couch was perfect for fitting you and Beca. With only minimal complaints (can you guess who?), you used your Prime account and turned on the first Harry Potter film, not realizing the coincidence of the situation.

"Seriously?" Beca was unimpressed as the opening music rumbled through her impressive, movie theater, surround sound system she has set up-even though the girl _hates_ movies. "Witches and Wizards? Really?"

At first, you don't connect the dots, but then after some time of thinking about it and the nasty scowl Beca had on her face to accompany the movie playing in the background, the entire scene made you, along with Aubrey and Stacie, to burst out laughing.

You claimed you had no idea and that it wasn't intentional, but Beca doesn't buy it.

You tug at Beca's waistline on her shorts, pulling her to join you on the couch. "Oh hush, you're just going to fall asleep anyways, Ms. Slytherin."

And she does, _minutes_ into the film, which you think is a new record.

Usually she falls asleep during the opening credits, so making it this far was impressive alone.

"Did you just call Beca... _amazing_?" You feign surprise, mouth gapped as you grip at your chest as if Aubrey's compliment was a bullet to the chest.

She rolls her eyes, flipping you off with a smile you can see poking out. "I'm being serious. Obviously, shit hit the fan with the whole cult deal, but how we happened to get lucky with these two is beyond my understanding."

Subconsciously, you squeeze Beca's sleeping frame tighter, loving how you feel her soft breaths of air against the skin on your neck where her face is caught between. "I don't know, either," you snicker back as a response, unable to give Aubrey an answer. It's still a question you ask yourself everyday. "But what I do know is that Beca's my penguin."

Aubrey's initial response is to stare blankly at you from across the living room where she's perched up in the love seat. Her next response doesn't really involve words and more so results in her laughing quiet enough so that she doesn't wake up Stacie.

"Your _penguin_?" She seems genuinely confused, which is new because top of her class Aubrey Posen knows _everything_. "What the hell does that mean?"

"Did you know penguins will find a mate and then they will mate for life?"

"Are you trying to say that you're not going to have sex with anybody else?"

"That's _exactly_ what I'm saying! It wouldn't even matter if she was bad at sex-which she definitely isn't," you chirp enthusiastically, maybe a little too loud and it causes Beca to stir a bit.

You freeze when you feel her move around, not daring to even take a breath in case she's just trying to find a new position and you don't want to fully wake her up. It takes every muscle in your body not to make a sound when Beca lazily presses her lips to the spot underneath your jaw, still fully asleep, but continues pressing light kisses to your skin as she snuggles closer into you.

Lou's word come flooding back in your head and the fact that Beca's as soft as a cupcake and what she's doing now is a well enough reason to back this up. Your mouth drops into an ' _awe_ ' as you look over to Aubrey and see that's she's enjoying the whole scene from where she's at.

In her sleep, Beca gives you a quiet _shushing_ noise before she situates one side of her cheek to lay on the front of your chest, the spot right under your chin. Her hand even decides to cover your mouth, subconsciously trying to make sure you don't talk anymore.

You kiss her finger on your lips, smushing your cheek to the top of your girlfriend's head, overwhelmed with tingling emotions that electrifies your entire body. "Yep, definitely my penguin."

"You guys are gross-and by gross, I mean _nauseating_." At the same time Aubrey mutters this, a mask of disgust on her face, Stacie (you're unsure if she does it in her sleep or not) slides her hand up Aubrey's sleep shirt, groping an area that most likely isn't covered by a bra.

" _You_ guys are gross," you shoot the accusation right back at the couple who happens to only have one party actually paying attention. "And _romantic_ ," you tease with a wink when Aubrey allows Stacie's hand to stay put underneath her shirt, sporting only mild amount of embarrassment and flush on her cheeks.

Been there, done that.

Beca is very handsy, you have to admit-not that you're really complaining. Nope, that'd make you a hypocrite.

"We haven't had girl talk in a while, Bree." Aubrey squints her eyes suspiciously at the hint in your voice. No heating around the bushes, "how is it?"

"How's what?"

"The _sex_." At first you don't think Aubrey's going to respond; you have no filter and ask the questions while Aubrey respectfully changes the subject.

But she surprises you after a few moments.

"Good," Aubrey clears her throat at the same time she says this. " _Really_...good. She treats me well, both in life, and in the bedroom," Then coughs this out more confidently, sniffing her nose coolly while avoiding any eye contact made with you. "

But you continue grinning at her like a Cheshire Cat that just won the lottery, settling when you return your gaze back to the T.V.

The two of you shift your focus back to the film, enjoying the movie for a moment as your girlfriends continue sleeping, making the occasional joke about how Emma Watson has bloomed into quite the jawdropper and how puberty done did her _well_. It's during the time the credits start to roll and you feel the vibration across your chest when Beca starts snoring (and she says _you_ snore like a bulldog, _smh_ ) when Aubrey decides to speak up again.

"Are you scared?" There's a shift of tone in her voice, making you believe that this conversation is about to be way more serious than the whole penguin convo you two had previously.

"Of what?"

Aubrey gives you a look that makes you feel as if you just asked the world's stupidest question. "Of... _everything_ ," she snaps defensively, but still keeps her voice low enough to not wake Stacie. "Of this... _whole_ idea that we are about to go from college students to witch hunters and might not even have the chance to go back to being college students no matter how bad we do."

"Don't say that, Bree," you mutter sadly. This is not a conversation you want to be having with Halloween coming up so soon. "We have a plan-we've been training ourselves for what's to come. Don't say that it's the end because it's not."

"What, Chloe? You know it's true-Beca, you, Stacie and I are all in danger and putting our lives at risk."

You shake your head, thoughts bouncing all over the place. "I-I...I know that," you stammer out at the same volume, your voice suddenly weaker. Of course you thought about this, all the outcomes, both positive _and_ negative involving everyone.

But mostly involving Beca.

You clench at your heart when you think you feel pain; a sharp, cramping pain that feels restricting for you to breathe. It doesn't help when you think back to the morning you were cooking breakfast with Lou, and how she kept saying you needed to protect Beca.

But if you protect her, who protects you?

"I'm sorry," Aubrey quickly apologizes, a look of regret on her features. "I didn't mean to…" she pauses, trying to reword her previous thought. "I don't mean to ruin the night. I'm just... _worried_ and _scared_."

It reels you back into reality from whatever black hole you just sunk to and reassure her that she said nothing wrong. Yes, it's not the most comforting discussion to have, but you're glad she asked this question. It's good to talk about this things; it's healthy, and though you don't want to bring it up to Beca about the awful possibilities that might come out of Halloween night, you know it might be the best option.

The words haunt you for the remainder of the night as you and Aubrey put on another Harry Potter film. You can't even enjoy the movie, all the snakes and stuff because the thought of losing Beca eats at the back of your head. When Beca wakes up from her deep slumber, jumping _violently_ awake after she claims to had been dreaming about falling off a plane, you lead her by the hand to her room and when you two make it there, you don't remove your hand from hers.

Beca glances at your intertwined fingers suspiciously and you assume she's already on the fast track to reading your thoughts right now, because your expression doesn't exactly show that you're in a good place.

"What's wrong, babe?"

 _Well, that's a first,_ you think to yourself and try to convince yourself to have this conversation with Beca even though you don't want to.

"Are you scared?" You cut to the chase, not fluffing the issue, but wanting to get it out there. "Scared of... _dying_?" The word alone brings a foul taste to your mouth and ties a knot in your throat at the possibility of this word happening to Beca. As a reflex while thinking this, you fill your arms with Beca, hugging her tightly and never wanting to let go.

"Chloe," is Beca's gentle response back and she rubs at the back of your neck with one hand, the other hooks tightly around your waist securely.

You don't respond back, but instead find any way to get _closer_ to Beca, flushing your body against hers. You also know that if you were to speak, you'd end up crying, so instead you wrap yourself around Beca, hugging her like you life depended on it. Inhaling her scent you catch in her hair, hoping it'd be able to ease you somehow.

She allows you to just stand there holding her, nothing being said, silence surrounding you two in the room. Eventually, she does pull away but keeps her grip locked securely around your waist, concern dripping from her features. You know she's waiting for you to explain, but you appreciate more than you can express that she isn't rushing it out of you because the possibility of it is still all too much for you.

Taking a large, deep breath in through the nose, out the mouth, "I'm scared." You had a whole _novel_ to say to Beca the moment she woke up, but now in the moment, these are the only words your body will allow you to get out without turning into a ugly, sobbing mess. "I'm really scared, baby."

Beca hears the words fight through the bubble stuck in your throat and catches the way your lips are trembling; a clear warning sign that you're about to lose it. When she does see and hear both of these, she moves solely on impulse, pressing her lips so fiercely to yours that it makes you forget about _everything_.

"Don't be," she whispers this order across your lips, breath rapid from the kiss and chest moving aggressively in sync with yours from being so close. "I'm not going to let anything bad happen to you, you _know_ that." The look in her eyes show so much protection she has for you that you _shouldn't_ be scared.

But truth is your scared for a _completely_ different reason.

"I'm not scared about my safety," you finally find your strength to get out more than a couple of words and your forehead falls into Beca's before closing your eyes. "I'm scared for yours." Your words are shaky and your body is probably doing the same in Beca's hands as she holds you.

It would be a completely different story if the blood moon wasn't five days away-though you've been _dreading_ this night to come since the first moment hearing about what you and Beca had to go through.

But the fact that these might be your last five days with Beca shatters your heart to a million different pieces that you have no way of putting back together before the night even comes.

"Don't be," Beca repeats her words from before and pulls you into a hug, your chin landing on the space above her left shoulder like a missing puzzle piece. She kisses at your temple in a way you love so much and shoves her face into the crook of your neck before muttering, "I'm not going to leave you."

And it _sounds_ confident and you want to believe her, to believe everything is going to be fine, but reality keeps sinking in and you _know_ Beca's not invincible, no matter how much magic she knows, or the powers she's gifted with.

The chances of her dying is just as high as yours.

"I'm not going to let anything _hurt_ you, Chloe."

You scoff humorously though nothing is exactly funny about the situation and glance up towards the ceiling, blinking away the tears forming in your eyes. Subconsciously, your grip around Beca's body tightens at the thought, as if that will make her safe, but right now you're desperate and your heart is starting to crumble, so you'll do anything to make this situation less scary.

It doesn't work.

"I think you underestimate my strengths, babe," Beca mumbles, her tone coming off more playful than serious, but it doesn't make you relax. "I haven't been _completely_ honest with you."

You jolt off Beca's body like the girl was on fire, arching a brow so high that it's touching your hairline. Crossing your arms above your chest and waiting for some answers with an expression that screams unimpressed, "what do you mean? I thought we were done keeping secrets from each other, Beca."

Beca shrugs her shoulders so casually that it makes you want to smack her with both hands and then twice more. "It's nothing serious... _just_ … being clairvoyant and telekinetic isn't my only strong suit."

Still, you're confused as to where this is going and gesture for Beca to continue on with her point. She also forgot to mention extremely lethal with shooting a gun, handling a knife and martial arts, but whatever.

"You are scared of spiders, right?" You nod your head, though, you regret doing so when Beca's lips twitch up into a mischievous grin. You don't have time to construct this thought, however, because all of a sudden you feel something crawling up your leg.

And your skeleton about _rips_ through your skin when you're greeted by eight, _horrifyingly_ hairy legs and a face to cause nightmares and you give a scream loud enough to break glass before your thrashing all over the room in attempt to shake off the insect.

You're not just scared of spiders.

You're _terrified_ of them.

" **Oh my God!"** You scream loud enough to pop a vocal cord and definitely loud enough to wake the whole cabin, but you don't care.

Beca is hysterically laughing at you who is seconds away from tears when the spider is _still_ stuck to your thigh and you're contemplating amputating the limb. You scream at Beca to kill it, body moving on its own in effort to shake it

Out of nowhere, the spider disappears, but you're unsure where it could've gone and the fact that it's still in the room makes you not want to sleep in here tonight. Either way, you're thankful that the spider is out of sight, because you were starting to get light headed from screaming and jumping around all over the place. First of all, that spider was gigantic, and second, it was _crawling_ up your leg.

Your entire body shivers at the thought; you can't believe that nasty thing touched your skin all while you received _no_ help from your super tough, witch hunter girlfriend who instead just laughed at the scene. You're about to scold her for watching the show, but that same spider, along with a hundred others crawl out from under Beca's bed, aiming right for you.

And you about have a heart attack seeing your worst nightmare come to life.

" **BECA**!"

"Calm down, calm down!" Beca's laughing even harder this time and you're sure by now you have tears coming out of your eyes when your scramble to the top of Beca's bed. "It's okay!"

"What's okay about your floor being _covered_ by spiders, _Rebeca_?!" You bark at Beca and try to get her to join you on top of the bed before she gets eaten over something, but she doesn't budge. It's here you notice that she's not moving at all, let alone paying attention to the spiders crawling around her.

And then it clicks.

"That was you?" You ask in a far calmer tone, though you want to strangle your girlfriend because you think you already know the answer. "Did you…"

"Yes," Beca answers, cutting you off with a grin before all those nasty spiders get transformed into a field of sunflowers that border around the bed. "I can, like, manifest realty to whatever I want it to be-my mom can do the same. Hers is a lot _stronger,_ same with Gail's which is a... _scary_...type of stronger, but let's not get into that."

You're in awe right now, fascination running at an all time high when you go to touch one of those fully bloomed sunflowers. It's scary how real they look, and how the smell, texture and appearance is all there for you to be stunned by. Beca, again, surprises you. _God_ , this woman is seriously unremarkable.

"Can you see them too?" You ask curiously.

"Nope, only you can."

You nod your head, fingers playing with the pedals of the flowers and there's still so much disbelief about this happening right now.

"I'm going to do whatever it takes to protect both you and I," Beca says with bass to her tone as the flowers suddenly start to disappear. "There's so much I want to do with you; California, meeting your parents, taking you to one of my shows, _marrying_ you."

You breath hitches at that one and you hope Beca doesn't notice.

"I'm not going to let anyone ruin what I have planned for us, understand?"

It doesn't completely erase the poisonous thoughts flooding your head with doubt, but it sure as Hell helps get rid of some. The marriage comment being the one that makes your heart skip a beat and flood your stomach with butterflies, though, and on the inside you're a giddy, lovestruck school girl.

You give Beca a weak smile, nodding your head that you understand and hope she believes you.

Abruptly, an unfairly tall, walking zombie, Stacie, being tagged along by a more awake blonde about ready to blow someone's head off with the shotgun held in her hands breaks through the door, causing you to scream and Beca to prepare for her own self defense. After explaining to the couple that Beca was just being an _ass_ and scared you half to death with a spider, they relax-though Aubrey warns to keep it down, a weaponizing glare directed only at Beca.

Stacie drags her out of the room, claiming to be _dead_ tired and she happily follows along when nothing threatening is happening, closing the door that you're surprised she didn't shatter. Simultaneously after a shared glance mixed with shock and confusion, you and Beca burst out laughing and all of a sudden you feel better.

 _A lot_ better.

"Come here." Beca uses her telekinesis to pull you into her arms, the power of her smile hitting you straight to the gut upon arrival. "Let's go somewhere," she suggests, wiggling her eyebrows like she's up to no good.

"It's super late." Though you're not against the idea; a late night adventure with Beca sounds absolutely _lovely_ , especially before things get serious again, but it's past midnight.

You know it's not a valid excuse because one, it's Beca and she doesn't gives _two_ shits about what time it is and two, the both of you have _nowhere_ to be tomorrow morning, so being out late doesn't really matter.

"Where do you wanna go?" you ask instead, succumbing to that playful expression on Beca's face. Without answering, she kisses you slow and passionately instead, and you think it's her way of getting your mind off whatever nonsense she's trying to muster up and sadly, it works.

"I don't care where we go, but let's just get out of here."

Beca gives you _that_ look, the one where her eyes look like they're looking directly into your soul and she drops a few more slow, languid kisses to your lips that you have no other option but to follow her out of the cabin and into the Dodge Challenger without any sounds of disapproval.

When Beca really said that she didn't care where the two of you would go, she meant it because as she speeds down the highway, driving like she stole the car, you have no idea where you two are at right now. What you do know is that you're having so much fun that you forget entirely about the whole break down you had earlier; the conversation with Aubrey, Lou and the moment you two had back in her room.

Right now, it's just you and Beca cruising carelessly down the ghostly highway _at least_ forty miles over the speed limit, her fingers tangled comfortably in yours while she belts out the lyrics to "What's My Age Again" by Blink 182 at the top of her lungs and everything feels _perfect_.

"Can I pick next?!" You yell over the wind coming from outside the windows rolled down in the car, gesturing to the aux cable connected to the stereo. You unlock Beca's phone and dive straight for the search bar with full intentions of receiving a mouthful from Beca when she hears who you decided to pick.

"None of that girly shit, Beale!"

It's too late for Beca's request before the opening melody of a very, _significant_ group of ladies that rightfully fall under ' _that girly shit,'_ but also a group you know for certain Beca has a guilty pleasure for. Using this bit of information as bait, you teasingly lip sync the truly legendary song, "Say You'll Be There" to Beca, performing the best serenading concert you can while the victim you have your eyes making a giant fuss from the driver's side.

"Mom...I'm going to _fucking_ kill you!"

You laugh at Beca's empty threat and poke her repeatedly amount of times until that scowl is off her face and it's replace by that smirk you go absolutely _wild_ for. Eventually, she sings along with you and takes you by surprise when she knows every word that you can only gap at.

"What Spice Girl were you, babe?!"

"Shut it, Beale!"

"I think you were Sporty Spice or Posh Spice. She was always so intense and had RBF like you. Also, you're kind of spunky, sassy and edgy so it fits!"

"I will kick you out of this vehicle if you don't zip it!"

"But you know that _friendship never ends,"_ you sing teasingly, poking Beca in her sides enough to cause annoyance, but not enough to put you into danger because she is still operating the wheel.

Quickly, she snags your finger that's poking her in the side and points an accusing one towards you who doesn't look the slightest bit apologetic. "Speak about this anybody and you're dead!"

Again, it's a meaningless, empty threat that you can't help but to lean across the console in the middle of her car, kissing her deeply (but also not for long because, _duh_ , driving).

And you lick your lips when you taste the flavor of the red starburst and sugar free red bull you guys bought at the convenience store on Beca's tongue when you return to your seat, keeping your stare fixated on this wonderful woman.

For once in a very long time, it feels like a regular night. No witches, no potions, no talk about guns. The only worry you have floating through your mind is Beca getting pulled over for reckless driving, but even then it's not a worry you feel the need to mention. You just sit back, enjoy your dork of a girlfriend as she serenades you with that heavenly voice of hers; she always knows exactly what to say, _exactly_ what to do to make you feel better.

You honestly don't know what you without her.

Admiring the way Beca's hair is blowing all over the place from the wind and combing back most of yours with the hand not holding Beca's,"I love you!" you shout over the music, giggling madly to the point where you think you've become delusional with adrenaline.

Beca lifts up your conjoined hands and places a lingering kiss over your knuckles before yelling back a, "I love you too, baby!" and presses her foot further down into the acceleration pedal.

The car picks up to speed that would definitely get Beca attested if a cop were to pull her over and you should feel very unsafe being in the passenger seat, but you don't. Not even a little bit. There's no one hardly around, the weather outside is _wonderful_ and you are living reckless with the love of your life.

And maybe you have doubts about Halloween night and the fear of something going wrong is still at the back of your mind, but one thing you know is that you're not going to let anyone, no matter if they're a witch, land a _single_ finger on your girlfriend.

You can count on that.

* * *

 **To be continued...**


	18. Chapter 18

**:)**

 **(I DO NOT OWN PITCH PERFECT NOR THE SONGS MENTIONED)**

* * *

 **Chapter Eighteen: Spice Up Your Life (Part 2)**

 **3 Days Until Blood Moon**

To say that the next two days after you highway adventure with Beca came easy and stress free would be a complete _lie_. Until now, you've spent _every second_ of your time trying to convince yourself that Beca's plan is going to work and that nobody is going to end up _dead_ once the night rolls around.

But because you overthink literally _everything_ , this self talk doesn't work.

Beca would remind you that she's not going to let anything happen and preach about how everything is going to return back to normal when you guys go out shooting, but that doesn't work, either. When she would remind you about having a whole team full of skilled, veteran witch hunters, including her mother who's a strong, _badass_ witch herself, it only helps a little bit.

But then you find yourself overthinking of all the negative outcomes that could come out of Halloween night.

"Let me be your _strength_ ," Beca's words are powerful enough to feel safe, for the time being.

"Cheer up, Ginge," Stacie orders to you and pokes your ribs a few times from where you and her are sitting down at on the couch. "You've always been so full of optimism, but you're kinda bumming me out."

If you could, you'd shift back over to bubbly, overly excited Chloe, but you can't. Not when Halloween is in three days and after that night, you might not have anything anymore.

You're laying in bed with Beca tonight. After having taken a shower, _together_ , you might add-though a lot of time wasn't really saved, persee, nor was the water due to other activities planned out. It all started when Beca gave you her trademark smirk when you were busy washing your hair and once your back was turned for rinsing, Beca's hands took the invitation to snake around your torso, only to travel further down your stomach.

And further.

And _further_.

"See? Isn't that a great way to save time?" Beca's smug when she asks the question as she's drying her hair.

For you, yes.

For the environment, definitely _not_.

Now ready for bed, Beca's playing music on her laptop as she tells you about this new solo project she's contemplating doing once this whole thing blows over. You feed her freshly popped popcorn in between her sentences and kiss her occasionally just to get a taste of that buttery yumminess as she goes on about wanting to finally get herself out there.

Totally not because these might be the last few times you'll ever be able to kiss Beca.

Nope,

Totally not for the reason.

"And I totally think we should collaborate on something," Beca drops out of nowhere and you wait for any sign to show that's she's joking, but end up finding none. In fact, she goes into even _more_ detail about her plan to get you into the studio for some recordings and too even start brainstorming some lyrics together.

It shouldn't take you by surprised that Beca wants to feature you on future albums of hers; she's notorious for drowning you in compliments about how good your vocals are and how the two of you sound amazing together. Other than filing your head, making it _ten_ times larger, you'd have to agree.

But the idea of being on Beca's album she's blueprinting out, destined to make this her biggest one yet, it's more than a little intimidating.

"You're like... _super_ big in the music industry," you tell Beca, but all she does is shrug it off, not fully seeing the point you're trying to get across. "You really think people are going to enjoy hearing a totally random girl with an average voice singing with _thee_ Beca Mitchell?"

"No, I don't think they'll enjoy it," Beca retorts and, _okay_ , not the best thing to hear out loud, but you're glad Beca finally understands this. Even though it stings a bit.

She moves her laptop to the desk near her side of the bed and from where you're resting your head in her lap, laying perpendicular from her, it causes you to sit up straight.

"I think they'll _love_ it," she claims with a face splitting grin that you can't help but to roll your eyes at. She then uses your words against you, "you _did_ say we make a great team."

"Yeah, at fighting witches," you defend with a snort, poking Beca in the stomach since it's in full view as she's clad in only a matching set of Calvin Klein underwear; a very tight black bra and tiny, _tiny_ boy shorts. "Not making a double platinum album! I've never even produced anything-at the most, I've been in _choir_...in _high school,_ and I wasn't even that good!"

"Bet you were the hottest, though."

You roll your eyes because that's besides the point-though it does make you feel good about yourself. Even during your awkward and very unstylish phases you experienced in high school.

"Don't knock it till we try it, babe."

Chuckling at your girlfriend's stubbornness, "whatever, dork," you drop it, ready to burn that bridge when it comes time. As for now, you have other things on your mind. "Can we watch a movie?"

"Seriously?" Beca asks incredulously, then gestures over her body and your eyes can't help but follow along. "I'm half naked and you want to watch a stupid movie?"

She's not the only one flaunting a lack of clothing during this time of night. Since what's Beca's is yours, _technically_ in the girlfriend handbook, you decided to pick out a black and white baseball tee with only a pair of your own boy shorts to cover your legs.

"I mean, the view is _nice_." Shamelessly, you stare hungrily at Beca's body, savoring all the exposed skin you've been blessed with once Beca decided not to throw on hardly any clothes after your guys' shower. You bite your lip as your eyes eat away the little bit of clothing Beca has on while your gaze lands on Beca's cleavage- _Jesus, stop looking, Beale._ "But we made popcorn and I promise to rub your back afterwards?" You bait, pulling out your strongest and most lethal weapon; _puppy dog eyes._

"Only if it's a porno."

You smack Beca upside the head for her response; she's such an ass, but an ass who you really want to cuddle and watch a movie with. She lets out a loud laugh that you have to sit through until she settles down and you go right back to giving her the best damn puppy eyes you can give. You even add a lip jutt which is proven to be Beca's _absolute_ weakness.

And Beca does fall for it, mostly because the movie you pick out has a lot of violence, swearing, blood, shooting and Emma Stone- _who_ apparently she has met before and gotten drunk together.

"I'm so jealous!"

"Yeah, she's fucking _wild_. You redheads seriously know how to handle your liquor."

"False! She's not a natural redhead.'

" **What**!?"

 _Zombieland_ plays for a while and thankfully Beca doesn't complain as much as you expected her to during the film. She even stays awake _thirty minutes_ into the movie and it shocks you to see that she seems almost fascinated by the plot.

But it may be because Emma Stone's character has now made an appearance and you try not to think about how Beca is too busy checking her out to fall asleep.

"Okay, question for you," you mumble over a mouthful of popcorn, eyes focused on the screen in Beca's room where the movie is playing. "How would you pack for a zombie apocalypse?"

Beca hums in thought from above where you're laying your head on her stomach, enjoying the movie and how she's playing with your hair. "At first ,I thought chainsaw, but then again a herd of zombies would be an issue and plus I wouldn't want to risk getting my head ripped off being that close."

You hum in agreement, listening to Beca carefully and in awe while Woody Harrelson's character successfully blows the brain out of a zombie at the antic store, earning himself zombie kill of the week.

"Is have to say a SIG-MPX-great shot, heavy duty and can shoot pretty damn far."

Humming once again, "I like where you're going, but I object," you disagree and sit up from where you're laying, wanting to explain what _you'd_ pack in a time like this. Beca raises her eyebrows up, smirking at you before wanting some elaboration. "Other than a _giant_ ass backpack full of first aid stuff and a ton of _water_ , I'd have to say an H&K MP5 would be the better option compared to the SIG."

"Uh huh, why's that?"

Oh boy.

Where to even start?

"Well first, the MP5 has a lot more features; example A would be the concentric circles used for aiming. Also, the shooting is way more smooth in comparison."

Beca nods her head, agreeing, but also disagreeing. "Okay, but the MP5 is a lot heavier than the MPX."

"True, but only because the MP5 is steel. When it comes down to shooting, the MP5 has a better factory trigger, thus making it more controllable to shoot, especially if I were to use, for example, the red eye or concentric circles. Shooting zombies from a far range is just a major plus."

Beca not only seems interested in what you're saying, but highly impressed as you ramble on about weapons that you've taken the time to study up on during your _massive_ amounts of free time. Knowing Beca had tons of magazines and catalogs on guns, you decided you should at least be familiar with the ones Beca owns and know their strengths and weaknesses. By then, you became hooked and couldn't even put those readings down.

You somehow miss Beca's rapid change in behavior as you begin to babble endlessly about how a grenade launcher would _also_ be useful in a zombie apocalypse. Next thing you know is Beca's lips are aggressively shutting you up mid explanation in a needy, fiery kiss that takes your breath away, sending your back straight into the mattress before Beca climbs on top of you.

A tropical explosion hits spreads across your tongue at the delightful taste of milky coconut from Beca's EOS chap stick she uses when you get a few slow licks. The kiss happens for a while; the movie _long_ forgotten about when Beca's tongue enters your mouth with an equal amount of dominance and passion. Breathy moans fill the air when hands start to wander; Beca's nails scrape up against your stomach at the same time the baseball tee you're wearing follows and your hands search out for anywhere to hold.

Beca's hair being the first place they land.

"You talking about guns is so _fucking_ sexy," Beca literally _growls_ into your mouth and snags your bottom lip between her teeth before you can even think about responding back. Her hands continue scraping north up your body until they find comfort at the swells of your breast and you arch your chest up desperately into her touch.

"Really? I couldn't tell," you try to make a joke out of it, but you're far to breathless and your whole body feels like it's on a constant vibrate. "Remind me to enlighten you on the proper weapon choices more often if I get a reaction like this out of you. Plus, you know, to teach you a few things."

Beca only chuckles at your wink before capturing your lips once again and you use your advantage to flip positions on the bed. Without breaking the kiss, your left thigh lands in the space between her legs, allowing a perfect position to rock your lower half into Beca's. Her hands hook onto the back of your neck, pulling your face down closer to hers as she slows down the kiss, savoring her time when she swipes at your swollen lips, or against your tongue.

"Kissing...is so _underrated_ ," Beca mumbles softly across your lips, her voice incredibly low and rough and it pulls at your gut in a way that makes your legs clench.

"You're just now realizing this?"

"Well yeah," Beca pauses, kissing you again. "I never kissed someone as good of kisser as you, so it never became an important thing to do," she sugar coats, panting breaths into your mouth before she kisses you a few more times. "Sex and all is cool-sex with you is mind blowing, but _holy fuck,_ this is amazing."

You half listen to Beca, but most of your attention is glued to something else as you detach your lips from hers only to start the path across her jawline and down her neck. However, barely before you start to suck languidly on skin above Beca's pulse point, one of her fingers pushes at the bottom of your chin back up to meet her lips again, not being finished just yet.

" _More_ ," she demands breathlessly, but stern at the same time and really, her wish is your command. She could ask you to run down the street _stark_ naked in that voice and you'd do it in a heartbeat.

You love making out just as much as anyone else does, especially making out with Beca who's a **phenomenal** kisser, so you're not one to complain when you two get lost kissing each other for God only _knows_ how long. Admittedly, it is very difficult to _only_ kiss when Beca's hands that are tracing at your lower back start to drift lower, and lower until there's two grips squeezing at your butt so tightly that you can't hold in the squeak of surprise that slips out between your guys' cemented lips.

Beca briefly pulls away from your face, her eyebrow high and a suspicious look glowing on her face at the noise you just made; an idea popping up. From confused, to down right _salacious_ , she takes one of her hands and earns herself that same noise from you again when she sends a soft smack to your left cheek; a noise that comes out more like a whimper than squeak.

"Seems like someone has a spanking kink,"

You would've expect some sort of embarrassment to come out of the discovery, but because it's Beca and you feel so comfortable with her, the idea only excites you.

 _Way_ more than you think it should.

You graze a kiss over Beca's lips; a kiss so light that your lips barely even touch. "Perhaps." It's barely above a whisper, but you make sure it's loud enough so Beca can hear. "I also know a certain _someone_ loves when I curse."

You brush your lips over Beca's, loving the way she chases and the way her breathing picks up. Making sure you have full eye contact; your eyes glued onto those exceptionally darker sets of blues.

"And I'd really appreciate if would _fuck_ me."

" _Shit_."

You try not to laugh when Beca's eyes roll to the back of her head, her body undergoing a whole series of pleasure by just the simple word, but you fail miserably. You also fail to keep in the moans that arise deep within your chest when Beca's hands slip under the elastic band of your boy shorts, returning her hands' positions on your ass with nothing this time blocking her palms from touching skin.

"It would be... _my pleasure_ ," she pants, stealing your bottom lip once again to violently suck at in a way that coil your insides and brings immediate heat to your center. Her tongue moves effortlessly against yours and the movements in your hips come easily as Beca's hands help you grind it out.

Just as Beca's fingers hint that they're about to discard that last piece of material covering your lower half, you pull away from the kiss. "Wait," you manage to gasp out hoarsely, stopping Beca from going any further. One puzzled glance from the girl caught underneath you and one shift movement to reach and find the remote to pause the movie, you're back on top of Beca, a playful look on your face. "Let's do something _spontaneous_."

Beca glances at you sideways like a dog would and it so freaking cute despite how sexy she looks right now. "I have my hands in your underwear right now and I'm about to fuck you while zombies are killing people in the background. How much more spontaneous do you need? And let me shoot down your ideas of adding strawberries and whip cream to the bed unless you want to wash my sheets."

"I don't _know_! Like, the classic you go down on me, I go down on you is fun and all, but I'm going to be honest...I'm bored."

"Already? _Damn_ , we've only been dating for two months-sleeping together for twenty eight days and the sex is _already_ boring?" Beca doesn't seem offended by your proposition like one would expect she'd be and in fact, she seems engaged by where the conversation is hinting towards. " _Please_ tell me you haven't faked any of your recent orgasms," she asks afraid. "Maybe I can handle one or two times when you were tired, _maybe_ , but that's questionable."

"Oh I haven't faked anything, baby," you can happily admit to this and really, it's not even about Beca's impressive skills in the bed that you're bored of.

No freaking way; she's **phenomenal**. It's the position that's becoming like a 9 to 5 job type of boring and you tell her this as you go deeper into your explanation.

"As you know, I travelled the deep dark end of the internet and visited some... _websites_ that one would say are raunchy, probably full of viruses, but during that embarrassing moment of my virgin life, I read a Cosmopolitan article that gave a lot of helpful tips and strategies for lesbians and their sex life."

Beca's all around amused by this point and urges you to explain what exactly this article contained and not to get shy when illustrating these tips.

"Well, there was 28 of them and at first I was really overwhelmed being a virgin and all, but the pictures were very helpful," you trail off; Beca nods her head, humming. "Have you ever heard of the lovely lap dance? Or spoons? Or what about tipping the scales- _that_ one seems fun."

Beca bats her eyelashes as you wait for an answer and you half expected to get some sort of laughter from Beca, but it nevers comes. Instead, she makes you feel comfortable talking about these difficult topics and stays interested in the conversation, even when her hands are still covering your ass.

 _God, she's the best._

"I have not heard of that, but I'm assuming it's like a clothed lap dance... _minus_ the clothes."

You tell her she is completely correct, beaming a smile and go onto explaining in anatomical terms how to perform each of the positions next.

"But not even positions-there's so many kinks and plays that people do and I feel so comfortable with you that it would be fun to try them out."

"So, are you proposing that we try something _new_?" You nod your head eagerly and it takes only a second for Beca's facial features to transform back into a gaze that has naughty witten all over it. "I have one in mind,"she baits and her hands slip out from under your panties to travel up until her fingers are pinching at the hem of your baseball tee and she's lifting the material slowly. "It requires that candle on my drawer, the lighter in my desk and your shirt _off_."

A question or _several_ fills your head at the randomness until Beca's wink she tosses at you, and then you connect all the dots as you reach for all the items Beca listed, wanting to heat this moment up a little bit more.

Pun very much intended.

" _Ooo_ coconut beach," you comment as you take a whiff of the yankee candle and all the yummy smells it has to offer. It reminds you of pina coladas and summer and Beca in general, so it makes you feel warm and toasty inside.

"Light the candle, set it on the table and while we wait, kiss me like you miss me, Red," It could mostly be because of _how_ she sounds we she commands you to do this- _so demanding and aggressive and really freaking sexy_ \- but you experience a full body of tingles, spiking your arousal through the roof at what Beca has in store.

"Oh, baby!" You coo loud and giggle madly as Beca suction kisses up your stomach while you take over and pull your shirt off the rest of the ways. When the material is off, you fall forward and her one of her hands retreat back down into your underwear, groping the skin tightly while the other clings to the back of your neck, capturing a fist full of hair.

And you two make out like horny teenagers for a good amount of time until the candle can be smelt from the top of the drawer where you sat it.

"What do you want me to do with it?" You question while holding the jar now filled with wax and a half naked girlfriend under you who is patiently waiting for the next move.

Except, you have no idea what to do.

"Anything you want." Beca's hands now rest at the front of your legs and move slowly up and down the tops of your thighs. "I trust you'll make this pleasurable for the both of us-just...don't pour too much because of my sheets."

You chuckle at Beca's paranoia when it comes to her flannel sheets, but nod your head at her requests, feeling incredibly special she has so much trust in you. With all the power in your hands and Beca looking up at you so lovingly yet so defenseless, you're sure your body is just as hot as the flame you're holding and now you're anxious to see how Beca's body will react.

The candle is at about 50 degrees tipped over when Beca abruptly tells you she isn't ready, grabbing your hand from going any further. She's a giddy mess when you look down at her, an emotion that you rarely ever see, but when you do, it's the best thing ever. Patiently, you wait for her permission to continue and hopefully this time will be able to _actually_ pour the wax.

"Okay, go slow-like, super _fucking_ slow."

So, starting very ( _very_ ) slowly, you tip the candle sideways, watching a small stream of clear substance fall onto Beca's stomach before the wax hardens into drips of a thicker, white substance over her clenching muscles. You watch in admiration as Beca's breathing picks up tremendously from nerves and her yelp of surprise at first contact with the wax, but then starts to settle back down when it starts to cool.

"Holy shit- _okay_ , that was nice. Wasn't as bad as I thought it would be," Beca's out of breath, relieved more than anything, her chest is rising high to a fall and is experiencing a jolt of energy all of a sudden. She tells you to do some more, "avoid the belly button though," and you don't need to be told twice as you're already moving to the next area on Beca's body that is desperate for some attention.

This is such an undeniable turn on that your bouncing hormones are making it really hard to focus at the task at hand.

Working your way up her body, you pour the wax into the crevice of her breasts, earning the same reaction as you got before, but this time Beca is a giggling mess from where you're straddling her.

"One more time," she pleas and you obey, but this time work down her body, pouring the wax on the trail of peach fuzz right below her belly button and above the Calvin Klein waistband on her boy shorts. Beca's entire body flinches when the substance hits her skin and she exhales a labored chuckle before falling back flaccid into the mattress.

Coming to a rather hasty conclusion, "this is so _hot_!" you announce loudly with a smile so big it's hurting your cheeks. Your sudden spurt of enthusiasm may also be because you're having a difficult time wrapping around your head that you and Beca are _actually_ doing this-not that you had any experience prior to Beca. "Does it hurt? Did I hurt you at all?" you're suddenly afraid that maybe you poured too much wax and maybe you just gave your girlfriend a third degree burn, but Beca quickly assures you that it felt nice.

 _Extremely_ nice.

"You haven't done this with anybody else, have you?" you ask, trying to be as cool as possible, like, if she were to say that she has done this before with someone else you _wouldn't_ act like you just got stabbed in the heart.

"Nope, you're my first," Beca wiggles her eyebrows up and down playfully, cheeks flushed, chest heaving for air and looking all around gorgeous.

 _Oh thank God._

"What does it feel like?" you wonder curiously as you absentmindedly poke around the hardened wax all over Beca's body.

She's still breathing heavy from the exhilaration of it all, but she manages to slip out, "like...it's not even hot, it's more of the anticipation that makes it feel good, but even then I can't really explain it," with a lazy crooked smile you lean down to plant a kiss. She continues to smile across your lips and blindly steals the candle from your grip. "Your turn."

As impatient as ever, you willingly give up the candle, hopefully keeping most your excitement at bay at the thought of getting hot wax poured on your naked body by you're insanely sexy girlfriend. You'd be lying straight from your mouth if you were to say you weren't the _smallest_ bit eager to switch positions.

But before anything can get too heated (more than how it is _now_ ) loud noise of some sort from outside the room tears you two away from each other.

Frozen on top, Beca puts aside the candle. "You hear that?" She perks herself up onto her elbows and you straighten your arms on either side of the pillow where her head was laying, hovering above your girlfriend to give her more space.

"Yeah," you confirm, winded, out of breath and the most turned on you've ever been, _period_. You want to say it was Aubrey or Stacie causing ruckus outside of the door because you'd do _anything_ to return to where you and Beca left off, but you know well enough those too are probably passed out _cold_. "What was it?"

Beca takes the time contemplating what it could be, both your eyes and hers fixated on the closed door. "I don't know, but we should-"

Before Beca is able to fully get out what she was going to say, the closed door you two have been staring at for quite some time flies open, crashes into the wall, scaring you half to death and causes you to scream. Once it's fully open, the sounds of laughter follow quickly, as well as unannounced company joining you and Beca inside the room.

Also, the hint of excessively used cologne hits your senses before the suspect wearing it comes marching through the room

" _Oy_ , Becky!"

Beca curses under her breath when she is greeted with that British voice, as well as unnecessary loudness coming from the party. When you see that it's just harmless but rather annoying Luke, your body starts to relax from the abrupt noise and you then realize you've clung to Beca for protection like a leech.

"Glad to see you're doing well, mate!" Luke points his finger back and forth between you and Beca on bed, causing you to notice that, yes, the both of you are very, _undressed_ , but he doesn't seem to care. He does seem to notice two very distinct things; one, a candle lit on the table and two, Beca's skin covered in wax from said candle. "Candle play? _Bloody Hell-_ you crazy kids! What's next? Chains and whips?"

 _Oh my God, this is so embarrassing!_

Scrambling up to find the nearest clothes you can find, you toss some over to Beca, watching her change into something more appropriate while Luke takes the time to casually examine the room while throwing out some catcall whistles. Totally without permission nor the decency to knock before barging in.

"What the _fuck_ , Luke? Why are you here?" Beca snaps, throwing on one of her shirts you tossed at her while you slide on some random pair of sweats.

Luke stops his journey around the room, toothpick dangling from his mouth as realization hits him. He lifts up his black sunglasses (why is he even wearing them at night?) and places them in the neckline of ridiculously tight black shirt while the images of zombies are paused on the T.V.

"Didn't mean to interrupt some _sexy times_ between you two, though, there was _no_ sock on the door handle-" Beca throws a pillow from her bed at Luke when she sees his amusement, shutting him up real quick before he can tease you guys anymore about your movie choice for setting the _mood_.

"Well you did interrupt," Beca grumbles out, annoyance running at an all time high. You bite your lip not to giggle at Beca's obvious display of sexual frustration; she's not the only one experiencing this torture. However, you're _significantly_ more turned on if your cheeks, chest and the rest of body have any say by how flushed they are. "So what the fuck do you want?"

All of a sudden, "sup, lovebirds!" Another voice enters the room, one that's just as loud and just as carefree as Luke's. Great, now you're half dressed with _two_ people, not one. "Why does it smell like sweat and coconuts?" No one really answers her, but she can make a rough guess as to what is going on by you fumbling to get dressed, Beca's boobs out in the open and candle wax literally _everywhere._

You do feel a little better knowing it's Jade with Luke as she saunters her way into the room, both dressed fully in black jeans and the usual t-shirt and dripping with amusement from her features when she notices yours and Beca's current state. It also makes sense why the door just _randomly_ shot open; Jade and Beca with their freaky telekinetic powers.

"What were you two just doing?" Jade asks entertained.

" _Nothing_ ," Beca and you say simultaneously, trying to remain cool.

"Oh don't be acting coy now." Now Jade is having way too much fun dragging out the situation and seems like she isn't about to just let it go, either. "What were you two freaks doing?"

"Well I was explaining to Beca about how I think it'd be really fun to spice up our sex lives- not that it wasn't already spicy! It definitely was, just not ghost pepper spicy like it could be, but like jalapeño spicy, and so I explained all the sex positions I found online and before we tried those out, we were messing around with a candle-"

Beca throws a hand over your mouth to silence your babbles; you then realize what you just openly admitted to Luke and Jade, appalled that you even said anything at all. "Jade you fucking asshole! Keep your powers to yourself!" Beca growls, but Jade is way too busy laughing to the point of tears to be affected by it.

Jade, as impatiently as ever now that she has her answer, snaps her fingers at you and Beca in a needy manner. "Stop finger fucking around and get dressed, Mrs. Gray and Mrs. Gay! We are going to Barden!"

* * *

When Warren said Barden was a ghost town, he really wasn't joking.

House and neighborhoods are alarmingly dark and there's police parked at every corner. Places that were usually packed are now empty, not a familiar face in sight. Everyone who you guys do happen to pass by when driving looks zoned out, like all their movements come out robotic and faces are stone cold. Emotionless.

It scares you to know a place that you've become so comfortable with, that you built a safe, friendly home to live happily at is now a foreign place; a foreign place that doesn't give you that safe, guarded vibe that it once did. Everyone, it looks like, is walking around with the same mindset, terrified to sleep in their own home.

"Holy fuck, Gail seriously brainwashed the entire town," Jade comments when looking outside the window at a stoplight where people stand frozen like mannequins and you could say the same thing. That, or the entire town is just mourning, hiding the facts that students are being kidnapped and trying to play if off like it's just another day at Barden.

The greatest place on Earth.

 _Smh_ , ain't that a lie.

Lou was hesitant on the idea when Jade and Luke barged into the cabin without an invitation, but at the mention of stealing Gail and Kommissar's wands during the time of the annual masquerade bash the Bellas were throwing, the idea was won over. She even pitched in and mentioned trying to receive some sort of gem that's kept hidden, sacred to all witches, Gail and Kommissar especially.

"It's in their necklaces, similar to ours," Lou mentions and flashes the group her black symbol of the witch hunting organization she has created. It's two crescent moons facing opposite ways way securing a black stone you never noticed before until now. Even Beca's has the same stone in hers-how you didn't notice it before is beyond you. "Without their stones, their powers are useless."

Now _this_ was information that sprung up a million and one different ideas on how to go about this plan inside your head you store for later use.

"If for whatever reason you cannot get to the necklaces, their spell book will suffice. Burning it will not only weaken their powers, it will also reverse their memory manipulation spells on the Bellas, thus eliminating their army."

Listening carefully to Lou's strict orders on stealing these items, the group nods their heads, including yourself. She's not all for the idea of sending everyone to Barden, especially at the risk of getting caught-which would be all around _terrible-_ but Beca talks her through benefits of going and she eases up. She also knows how strong and smart Beca is. _Hell_ , the girl has managed to stay alive thus far, meaning she's obviously doing something right.

The idea of _you_ tagging along was what Lou was most hesitant about, and even Beca tried to talk you into staying back at the cabin with Stacie and Aubrey when she heard about how much you were risking going with the group.

"You'll be safe here; I'll be right back and I'll have the stones-"

"No."

"Chloe, come on."

"No Beca," you snap firmly, putting your foot down even when Beca gives you those pleading eyes. "Wherever you go, I go. End of story."

And that's how you found yourself riding in the backseat of Luke's all black, _monster_ truck-not literally, but he does have a **huge** dodge that is lifted up at a ridiculous height and makes it difficult for everyone to get into the vehicle.

Beca especially.

She'd insult his truck while she struggles to get in, claiming to you that he had to compensate for his tiny penis so he decided to buy and build a truck up that stands at an _illegal_ height. With his British charm, he'd remind Beca of the nights they'd race out in the middle of nowhere and he'd leave her mustang in the dust with driving Sir Charles (his truck, by the way).

But apparently he installed an engine from a viper sports car into his truck, which is considered cheating to Beca so she takes the championship belt for every race.

Whatever.

Loser or not, Beca's adorable and she's even more adorable when you let Luke in on a secret that Big Red (Beca's Dodge Challenger) happened to leave her mustang in the dust, as well, when the two of you raced on your date and she proceeds to pout in the backseat.

Under all the laughs and Luke's teasing digs at her car, " _piece of metal is about as slow as a snail is the car world, Mate!"_ she still holds your hand the entire way to Barden, unable to keep her soft side towards you from showing.

"We stand out like a sore fucking thumb," Beca mentions as Luke drives the four of you through the neighborhoods surrounding Barden University. Neighborhoods that are dangerously silent, no one in sight, no one around except a huge truck that looks as if it could bulldoze a house. "It doesn't help that your truck blows a cloud of black smoke out of the exhaust anytime you hit the accelerator."

Luke waves his finger up in the air. "Don't hate on the beast, Becky."

"Why didn't we take my car again?"

"Because even though you went to school for like... _a week_ , students around campus know what your car looks like, babe," you don't know if you have the say to chip this in since the question was directed to Luke, but you do it anyways. "It's not everyday a freshman rolls up in a 1969 Ford Mustang Fastback smoking cigarettes unless they were some type of narc-or in your case, a super sexy witch hunter."

"Damn, shorty," From the passenger seat, Jade breathes out impressed as she taps the inside of Luke's thigh to get his attention. "Now I know why you fancy Little Miss Riding Hood so much-her talking cars even got _me_ hot and bothered." She intertwines her hand with Luke's that's not clutching the steering wheel and throws a wink over her shoulder to you guys.

"You should hear hear talking about guns," Beca adds smugly, kissing the top of your head when you lean on her shoulder and wrap your hands around the inside of her arm closest to you while still keeping your fingers tangled together. "Any idea why the Bellas moved this event three days before Halloween?"

"I'm guessing Gail needs some more sacrifices and why not have hundreds of options to pluck from while hosting the _possible_ last party _ever_ at Barden. For fuck sake, she somehow managed to convince the town's sheriff that a sorority could even host a party in the first place while kidnappings are happening."

"Sensitive, Jade," Beca snorts, shaking her head unimpressed. "What's the plan?"

Jade and Luke explain the plan they created slowly, hitting all the important details you and Beca need to know before entering the house and not getting yourselves in trouble. Luke explains how since this party is used as bait and Gail is lurking on some more boys to drug under her charm, she'll have to leave to put whoever she chooses into the witch nest.

"When she does this, you guys will text us confirmation that the house is safe to break into while we find the best way to get into the upstairs."

"Oh easy," Beca scoffs before informing the two about the best route to take and you suddenly remember about all those times she snuck into your room at the Bellas and spent the night with you.

 _Awe, memories. It seems like only yesterday._

"And I'm assuming since Chloe and I are the ones going directly into the house we need to blend in?" Beca asks suspiciously, eyebrow raised and you think she already knows the answer to this by the way her body tightens and you can guess she doesn't exactly like it.

"Yup!" Luke chirps from the driver's side and informs Beca that costumes and everything are all set up in the duffle bag sitting in the bed of his truck. "Luckily, the theme is still black, but I hate to tell you that you'll have to get all dolled up before _yah_ go in there." Luke puts his truck in park, flashing Beca a toothy grin before instructing her to get out and meet him at the bed.

You stumble your way out of the truck, jumping down onto the ground gracefully unlike Beca who curses out of nowhere when she lands, claiming that she got a _massive_ foot cramp. Then she goes back to insulting the truck being too high up while you try to comfort your grumpy girlfriend hobbling away, but Luke has most his attention elsewhere, more specifically a flirtatious Jade who's throwing him some serious innuendo when you and Beca make it to the back.

"And you call _us_ the lovebirds," you snort, eyeing the couple teasingly, who make an _intimidatingly_ hot couple-and not just because Jade dating Luke gets her away from Beca. When you see the bags Luke pulls out after opening the tailgate, your excitement spikes right back up.

At the sight of the outfit she has to wear when opening the duffel bag, " _awesome_ ," is Beca's sarcastic, grumbled response that shows she's the least thrilled about dressing for the occasion.

You, on the other hand, are _stoked_ about this added detail; it's been so long since you've dressed up. She's even more upset when she has to change out of her skinny jeans and t-shirt into a fitted, sleeveless, black jumpsuit, but you have to admit you're (insert McDonald's music) _loving_ it. The way the suit hugs her hourglass shape so perfectly and the cleavage shown is making it impossible to concentrate on anything except for that _glorious_ sight of skin.

Which makes the task to dress yourself a lot harder than it should be.

And weirdly, everything fits.

Jade blames it on she's a witch and witches know everything when you ask and, okay, that's fair.

"You look beautiful," you _needed_ to tell Beca this even if she's upset about wearing the jumpsuit in the first place. Sometimes change is good. For Beca's case, change is _jaw dropping._ "Boobs look _fantastic_ , as well."

"Don't ogle, perv." Beca's words have no effect as you continue to gawk, the way she blushes-her timid smile- only makes you want to stare and appreciate her beauty for the rest of your life. "You look _beyond_ beautiful."

"Charmer." The corners of your smile touch your ears, so you turn around and order Beca to zip you up before your face splits in half. "Getting sappy now because you think you can get me out of this dress later tonight?"

"Is it working?" Beca whispers seductively into your ear, her words tempting and low and you can feel her wolffish smile without even looking.

The answer is _absolutely_.

But two can play that game as you reach behind and pinch at Beca's butt and you have to bite your lip not to start laughing when you hear the uncharacteristic squeak that comes from your girlfriend.

"Don't start something you can't finish, babe," you order huskily, as well as instructing Beca to get back to zipping you up so you can finish up your look.

The dress is nice-scratch that, _expensively_ _nice_ and fancy and you feel very out of place wearing it. It's a sleeveless, long, black gown that runs high and tight up your neck, covering most the skin. The rest of dress is tight around torso and hips, but at mid thigh there's a slit, exposing your left leg and black heels that were also in the back of Luke's truck.

When Beca announces that you're good to go, you turn around and almost faint when you're greeted by the way she's looking at you. Like, you're the only person left in the entire universe and you couldn't do anything that wrong that wouldn't make her think the world of you.

"I'm glad we are doing this,"

"Me too," Beca says sweetly, no funny business this time. She has finally relaxed enough to let you fix her hair; she's got it straight instead of those curls and the style really flaunts how long it is. "Without the possibility of getting killed, I'd love to do this again."

"Yeah?" You coo with a grin, hand trailing down the length of Beca's hair until it hovers over her collarbone. "What are you thinking?"

Beca shrugs casually, thinking for a moment. "I don't know. Florence would be cool, or getting drugged out of our minds in Ibiza."

Your mouth falls to your chest before you can stop it at the same time your eyes bulge from your skull. " _Italy_? _Spain_?" You mostly expected downtown Atlanta at a fancy club, not somewhere exotic and out of of the country- _Jesus_.

"Good job Ms. Russian Lit. I'm glad you _at least_ know your geography." Beca flinches when you pinch at her side. How did you fall in love with such a smart ass? "But yeah. I think that'd be dope."

"Ew," you scrunch your face, giggling while fixing Beca's necklace when you see it twisted up. " _Never_ say that again."

"What dope?" Beca baits with a smirk and you cringe again. "It's true! Traveling out of the country with you would be _lit_. Turn down for what, am I right?"

"Don't think you'll be getting action from me if you keep talking like that."

"Why not? Our sex would be totally _swag_."

"It's doing the opposite of turning me on- _actually_ , it's the Sahara desert down there."

"Why are you being so _salty_? I thought you wanted to _spice_ up things?"

"Oh my God.." you groan in frustration, but laugh regardless because Beca is a complete dork that you just can't get enough of.

" _Alright alright_ ," Jade appears out of nowhere from the front of the truck where Luke parked, arms crossed above her body and a smirk quite similar to Beca's. "You two can bang later. I'm afraid now, we have some stones to steal."

Jade tosses you a familiar blonde wig along with your own masquerade mask to wear and you questionably eye the sudden blonde hair you now have draped in your hands.

"Hate to tell you this but that red hair really makes you stand out, regardless if that mask covers your face. No way would Gail not notice," she clears up and you hate to admit she's right, so you go through the process of putting on the cap and Beca helps you straighten the wig out until it looks good enough to pass as real hair.

The two of you manage to put most the blonde up into a high updo, allowing two shorter strands of hair on either side of your face to stay out. After strict orders of signaling Luke when it's clear to go in and making sure each others appearances are good to go, Beca takes your hand in hers, setting off for the house.

Upon making it to the Bellas house, your immediate reaction is to release a deep exhale of air from your chest, every emotion hitting you at once. Traffic from the party is backed up for blocks, so Luke has to park pretty far, but when you make it to the house, you get an _eyeful_.

It looks so different, yet looks completely the same, but the newly added vibe brought to the house that has suddenly gotten stronger brings an instant chill that runs down your spine. And the feeling is very unpleasant, to say the least, and even then it doesn't quite sum up how you're feeling. The house is dark, way too dark despite it being night and _way_ too calm for it hosting a party and you are just getting a whole lot of bad vibes being here.

"You good to go in there?" Beca tears your focus away from the house; a house you've built an intense bond with, but now it feels like a brand new place.

You glance back at the house, then back at Beca, heart inflating when you notice the amount of concern written in her eyes not covered by her mask. "Yeah," it's shaky and for the most part unconvincing when you speak, so you try again. "I'm good."

Beca's doubtful at first, but another nod to show her you're just fine to go in and she believes you. You just have to eliminate all those God awful memories of Emily and Gail and Kommissar, even the _fucked_ up séances to make it through the night without having a total breakdown.

 _Come on, Beale._

You coach yourself through it when Beca helps you up the stairs no thanks to the heels you're wearing, giving you a lending hand so you can make it into the house safely.

 _Be strong. Be strong for, Beca._

Inside is a whole new story.

You're instantly flooded with unwanted memories of the Bellas, Gail and Kommissar that your breathing starts to pick up and the stench of evil hits your senses full blast. The fact that the inside is packed with students, making the air stuffy and impossible to breathe in doesn't help. As well as the half face masquerade mask you have to wear to blend in with the crowd, who also happens to be surrounding you with the most black dresses and tuxedos that you've ever been apart of.

Seriously, it feels like you're at a fancy funeral and you don't really know how to react to this observation.

There's fancy, ballroom music that's very out of place to be playing at a college sorority house with a bunch of college kids. There's an abundance of red wine that you have a gut feeling isn't really wine- _Gail, you monster-_ and most the students present you can't even recognize who they are, but at least half the population of Barden is in here.

But they're still enjoying themselves and talking aimlessly to everyone, especially the girls who happen to be wearing the _same_ exact, plain black dresses in addition to that silver 'B' around their necks that reminds you _oh shit,_ you still have yours on.

And on top of this, all the masks you run into are _terrifying_ ; some cover most the face, some have black feathers coming from the top, some have large, pointy beak beaks and some cover just the eyes.

It really feels like you're on set for _The Phantom of the Opera/_ attending the Catalina wine mixer, except instead of wealthy, _harmless_ (probably conservative) individuals you're surrounded by witches who want to take your heart.

Just, everything feels so fast paced and it's overwhelming and you're trying _really_ hard not to freak out in front of everybody because you _wanted_ to come and not stay at the cabin, _safe_ , and you really don't want to be the reason why this whole plan is blown and Aubrey would definitely lecture you about being so _God damn_ stubborn and-

"Hey." Beca sees that you're on the verge of maybe having a panic attack with the endless thoughts flooding your head that she takes your hand in hers and pulls you into the corner of the living room floor where most the space is and surprisingly a lack of bodies.

 _Jesus_ , you forgot how big the Bellas house is.

She keeps your hands locked together and drags her thumbs across the back of your hands as she looks at you concerningly. "What's going on, babe?"

You want to _scream_ in frustration that Beca even has to check up on you, but the only one to blame is yourself.

"I thought I was fine to go in here-I _felt_ fine outside, and on the ride over here, but I think I'm having a panic attack, or seriously on the verge of having one." You take a deep breath and look at anything around the room you can spot to avoid staring directly into those stormy blue eyes that are probably so _disappointed_ in you right now. "I just feels very suffocating in here knowing all my sisters tried to kill me and the fact that Gail could be _anywhere_ in this house."

"Hey, hey," Beca coos sweetly and tries to calm you down with quiet shushes, continuing to drag her thumbs up your hands for comfort. "You're fine, deep breaths."

You ignore the whole practiced breathing technique to ask a question that's literally eating you alive. "Are you mad at me?" You could live through the whole panic attack, but if this is true, it might end up killing you.

"Of course not. Why do you think I'd be mad?" Beca asks with a small chuckle and there's two good things coming out of the situation. One, she is showing the _opposite_ emotion you thought she'd be showing and two, she hasn't let go of your hands yet.

Which makes you feel less like you're failing her and more like you're _trying_.

"Because I wanted to come here; you were trying to make me stay, but I insisted on coming." Admittedly, saying this out loud brings a whole little regret to fill your heart. Without you, Beca wouldn't be playing babysitter in the Bellas house as she tries to calm her girlfriend down from passing out. Instead she'd be getting those stones and saving the fate of Barden.

"It's fine; I'd do the same thing if the roles were reversed, babe," Beca says calmly, voice barely going pass a soft murmur even under the music.

"I just...now that I think about it, being here with Jade, and Luke and especially you, I have nothing to offer and it kinda freaking sucks _a lot."_

Beca throws you a puzzled glance. "What do you mean?"

"Jade is witch with _witchy_ powers, you're an even stronger witch with even stronger _witchy_ powers on top of being an expert at shooting a gun. Luke isn't a witch with witchy powers, but he can shoot a crossbow and that's really _freaking_ impressive-and requires a lot of upper body strength. Trust me, I tried and failed _miserably_."

Becs nods her head, listening. "Okay, _yeah_ , Those are all facts but what does that have to do with you?"

You groan out in frustration not really wanting to say this next part out loud. "I'm not a witch, so I don't have witchy powers and I can 50% of the time shoot a giant watermelon out in the middle of the woods. I'm a college student who had a sheltered life and didn't do anything remotely as exciting as killing witches. All of you guys are so tough and then there's me, who'd probably pass out at a tattoo parlor-which all of you guys have, _by the way,_ so add that to the list of things that makes me far less of a threat than you."

Beca blinks dumbly for a second, gathering all this information while you want to crawl into a hole and die. There's an awkward amount of silence passed between and around you two that it's literally _excruciating_ to be a part of and you kind of regret saying anything out loud. Your nose has an annoying tickle and your eyes are starting to water, so it wouldn't be a shock if you start crying at any second.

And that'd be a reason backing up _exactly_ what you mean as to how you're Chloe Beale, average college student who cries _way_ too damn much.

Eventually, Beca breaks the silence, chuckling out a, "you finished having your own pity party-party of one?" and you can't restrain from the laugh that sneaks out of you when you realize what you just said.

Mentally face palming yourself (even you can admit that was painful to replay in your head) "I'm sorry, that was dumb."

Beca bounces her head side to side, shrugging and definitely not disagreeing with you, but you can't blame her. "It wasn't dumb, _persee_ , just a little uncharacteristic of you. Yeah, you don't have crazy powers, or are James Bond with a gun, but you have heart and courage and converse like a motherfucker."

" _Courage_? That's so lame!" You whine, pouting to Beca who just can't seem to stop laughing. "You don't even acknowledge my mediocre shooting?!"

"Oh don't go acting offended now."

You grin at Beca, knowing she's absolutely right.

"Can I get my confident, overly touchy, super cute when she dances and doesn't give a _fuck_ girlfriend back?"

Your grin gets larger at Beca's beg. " _Psh_ , no one dances at college parties, Becs!" You nudge Beca in the shoulder and lean in to drop a lingering kiss on her lips, not putting a lot of thought behind the action, or who could possibly walk in on it. "But yes you can! You want a drink?" You don't let her reply before you answer yourself. "I'll go get you a drink."

Destined to be a gentlewoman, start this night over and steal two drinks from the kitchen for you and your girlfriend, Beca grabs at your wrist before you can make it too far. "Dude, no. _Succubus rum_? Ring a bell?"

Realization lights up at the memory of that _foul_ , blood colored drink that has ruined any kind of red colored substance for you, including kool aid-and you _loved_ kool aid. Throwing your hands up in exasperation, "see? Where would I be without you?! Definitely _dead_ I-"

"Hi!"

"Shit!" You jump out of your heels and stumble backwards, luckily Beca is prepared and catches you with open arms before you were able to hit your head against the wall. You clench at your chest and the erratic beats coming from your heart that are threatening to burst from inside your chest.

"You guys thirsty?!"

Recovering from your previous heart attack, you recognize this tall drink of water standing in front of you and Beca and has managed to scare the _bejesus_ out of you for what feels like the _hundredth_ time since you've met her. The mask she's wearing (which is _chilling_ by the horns added to it)covers all of her face except her mouth, but just by that sinister grin of hers you know this is a girl you wanted to avoid the duration of tonight.

" _Drinks_!" Beca quickly shouts over you, pointing at the tray of wine glasses Emily is carrying around and passing out to all the students. Even Jessica and Ashley, Terra and Sindy -all in the same masks-are going around doing the same thing, shoving this repulsive liquid down people's throats. "Babe, look! We found some!"

You stare at Beca like you don't even _know_ her, nor do you know what she is even talking about right now, but she shoots you a glare when Emily tears her eyes away to give you guys a drink and _oh_.

You finally understand.

Getting through the night _without_ being recognized also means not talking to any of the Bellas on a first name basis, especially to the one girl responsible for your near death experience out in the forest that involved peppermint brownies and a whole lot of _witchy_ drugs to knock you out.

All Emily knows is that you-a _blonde_ \- and Beca are Barden students-who happen to also be a couple because you're certain she just saw you guys kiss-and that's it.

So you mirror Beca's disgustingly fake smile that's creeping you out how large it is and cheers the most ridiculous ' _wooo!'_ when Emily hands over the wine glasses. "Been looking for some of this all night!" You clench your jaw not to gag or make any look of disgust when the smell radiates out of the wine glass, bringing a journal full of awful memories to relive.

"As everybody _should_ be!" Emily cheers back just as chipper and even copies the smile, but hers has a lot more... _something_ behind it. Something that doesn't sit well with you. "It's Gail's infamous concoction that has the campus dying for more!"

 _Ha, what a great pun wasted on something so gruesome._

You're about to make up something random and completely fake, like praising Gail and her bartender abilities to make such a lovely drink ( _gag_ ) but someone else joins the scene and all the air from your body gets sucked right out.

Gail, followed by most of your familiar sisters, including Terra, Sindy, Jessica, Ashley and Lily, come up to Emily to whisper something at a volume you're unable to hear, but don't even have the chance to try and eavesdrop before Beca twirls you around and smashes your lips together.

Your first instinct is to pull away and ask, "what the hell are you doing?" but that doesn't happen because like most times, your eyes gradually close shut and you get lost in the way Beca kisses.

And the softness of Beca's lips.

And that delicious taste of her minty lip gloss on your tongue.

And barely hear Gail ordering the Bellas to meet her outside to take care of some " _business_ " before the whole group is fleeing the scene.

Beca abruptly pulls her mouth off yours; you're too stunned to even form a coherent thought right now. She informs you that they're gone and you two are in the clear now. Your first question is were the two of you even in trouble to begin with?

"You may have blonde hair right now; but no way would Gail not of noticed those captivating eyes of yours."

Oh.

That makes sense.

"Where do you think they're going?" You question when your ability to talk slowly comes back to you and see Beca craning her neck high to search around the room for something you're not really sure of.

After a few moments of searching, she pulls you over to the living room window and points out to a clear visual of the Bellas dragging along this clearly inebriated boy by the way he can barely walk on his own, Jesse, you think he name is, into the back of a van. You would think someone would notice this happening since a group of girls in scary masks carrying a guy, who already looks dead, out to throw him into the back of a van is a little out of the ordinary.

But no one seems to care.

Guess Jade was right about Gail blinding the entire campus from seeing all the fucked up shit she does.

"It looks like Gail and Kommissar are wearing their necklaces-it'd be foolish for them to take it off, so the spell book is out only option." Beca pulls you over to the stairs of the house and whips out her phone from her hand purse. "I don't think we have much time, so let's go."

She then sends a text to Luke that Gail and Kommissar have left the house, along with most of the Bellas living at the house, so the coast is clear. "As much fun as it is making out with you, let's go take down these bitches," she says with a grin, leaning in to kiss you, but the masks get in the way this time and it just ends up a mess.

Nevertheless, you giggle through the sloppiness and follow in tow behind Beca as she navigates you through the house. After quite some time weaving your way in and out of the crowd flooding the downstairs, it's refreshing to notice that the entire upstairs is _student-free_ and it doesn't feel like you're suffocating anymore.

That is until you walk by your room and that fear of suffocating comes back faster than you can even prepare for it.

Beca feels the resistance in your conjoined hands when you stop and stare at your closed door and she goes to stand next to you for support. Hundreds of questions fill your head, like, does it still look the same as it did when you last saw it, or have those monsters turned it into some sort of sinister ritual room where the Bellas practice their freaky witch séances?

"Wanna check it out?" Beca reads your mind and you nod your head eagerly, attempting to hide the nervousness you feel.

Curiosity overrules those nerves, though, and you're already on your way to opening the door, hand gripping tightly on the chilled handle before you're pushing the door opened. A chill from outside breezes through the window that happened to be left opened and hits your skin as soon as you enter the room, raising immediate goosebumps across your body.

Beca sneaks up behind you to take a look for herself, her hand brushes at your waist and hooks around for protection. "Damn, looks just how I remember it."

And it does look the same.

 _Exactly_ how you left it.

There's a mountain of clean clothes on the foot of your bed that you never got the chance of putting away and you're confused as to why your closet looks like a complete barnyard explosion, but then you remember the struggle of picking out the perfect outfit for yours and Beca's anniversary rings a bell.

The room still has that fruity scent to it that in the past brought peace to you after coming home from a long day of classes.

But you hate to have that worry eating at the back of your mind that even though your room _looks_ the same, there is still this invisible aroma floating the air, like someone was able to hex the room.

You break apart from Beca for a moment to examine the items on your desk; a dead laptop, pens of all colors, the CD Beca made for you as an anniversary gift and a whole lot of school work that's long overdue. It's weird to say that your room hasn't been touched in the _slightest_ bit since your abduction and you try hard not to think about how suspicious it is that Gail hasn't burnt the place yet.

You assume it looks good on her part that if police officials were to have a search warrant (though Gail and her powers would _never_ let anyone besides the Bellas enter the house) and your room was untouched.

Either way, being in your room again makes you feel out of place and clueless as to where anything is. Technically, the separation since the day in the forest has only been a little under a month, but it feels like a decade since you've last stepped foot inside the Bellas house.

"What's this?"

You turn around to find Beca examining a leather jacket, the _same_ leather jacket you intended on giving her as an anniversary gift, but were kind of drugged and kidnapped so that plan quickly flew out the window. You only now remembered that you even had the jacket.

Walking up behind her, you notice the neatly sewn letters reading "Mitchell" on the chest area that Aubrey was kind enough to do for you when you asked for some help.

"Surprise," you say through a shy chuckle now that the gift is finally being delivered to the recipient and you hope she likes it. "Don't kill him, but I had Luke take me out to Atlanta to help pick something out for your anniversary gift-which, by the way, he's surprisingly good at."

Beca's fingers trace slowly over the the white letters, the corners of her mouth twitching upwards. "Cause the dude has an inner drag queen locked inside who only comes out at the smell of Gucci perfume and Prada purses."

"Seemed like it at the mall. I thought I was the bad one shopping but he was _awful_. I had to basically drag him out of the H &M store by the ear because he wouldn't leave."

Beca snickers as she throws on the leather jacket at the same time your heart swells inside your chest when you see how amazing she looks in your gift. Also, how you did an _amazing_ job picking out the perfect style for Beca; a total _Sons of Anarchy_ type of material. "Seems like something Luke would do; the guy is such a pretty boy," she mutters, pulling out her hair from the back of the jacket and turning to face you for approval.

You comb out the kinks in Beca's hair with your fingers and slide off that masquerade mask before stepping back at getting a good look for yourself. All in all, you're at a loss for words; Beca's beauty is something you can't seem to get use to and tonight, she stuns you out of all the compliments. " _Total hotty_ ," you come up with as you bite your lip and shamelessly gawk at Beca's frame head to toe. It's a perfect mixture between fancy coming from the jumpsuit and just _Beca_ coming from that trademark smirk and that piece of leather she looks _so good_ in. "You like it?"

"I _love_ it," Beca corrects without a hitch and hooks a hand at your waist before pulling you in and dropping a wet kiss on your lips. "Smells just like you."

"Chanel Coco Mademoiselle," you inform over Beca's lips and can feel her mouth starting to curve up from smiling. "Shall we go?"

During the time you're leading the way to exit the room before you two end up getting caught, Beca emits a loud hiss in pain, causing you to spin around so fast you become dizzy. She's holding the back of her neck where you assume is where the pain came from, standing still, and if it wasn't for the fact she is moving her hands, you'd think she is paralyzed.

"Shit," Beca removes her hand from the area, inspecting her palm as if she were expecting to see blood. "I think something just bit me." It takes negative amount of time to make it to Beca and take a look at the area for yourself and just like she said, there's two fang marks punctured right under her hairline, red and swelling immediately.

"Are you okay?" you ask worried, the marks looking rather irritated and are prepared to do _anything_ to take Beca out of her pain. "What do you think it could've- **OH MY GOD IT'S A SPIDER!"**

And not just _any_ type of spider.

No.

This is a pitch black spider the size of _at least_ a nickel, crawling down Beca's arm, targeting you for its next attack. There's a red mark on the body of the spider and it has terrifyingly skinny legs, looking a lot similar to a black widow, but not nearly as big. Either way, the fact that it's a spider and is currently on your girlfriend is freaking you out.

Beca, unlike you, stays calm and tries to tell you to keep your voice down before the whole house comes up here because they think someone is being murdered. Attempting to do this, you cover your mouth with your hands to muffle your screams when Beca fearlessly picks up the spider in her hands and shows it off to you.

And you want to scream bloody murder and smack at Beca multiple times for putting the spider so damn close to your face, but eventually find out that it's harmless.

"It's...dying?" You notice when the spider's legs starts to shrivel up inside Beca's hand and is too weak to continue crawling. "Why is it dying?" You know the only insect that dies after stinging someone is a bee, so seeing this is unsettling to see it happen to a spider.

Definitely not because you feel bad for the _nasty_ thing.

Beca doesn't answer you, her attention to focused on something else. Her eyes are fixated on the spider until it completely stops moving in her hand, dead and motionless.

"Hey, we got the spell book," Jade and Luke pop out from window to your room and Luke lifts up a brown, beaten up book that you can take a rough guess and say that's what Jade is talking about. "Let's get out of here!"

You give them a thumbs up when Beca is stuck in her own little world to reply back and let them know you two will be right there. When you look back at Beca, you notice the sudden paleness to Beca's skin color and for the first time ever, there's fear lacing her eyes.

"Bec, are you okay?" You start to panic when you being to worry about the spider being poisonous and the _World's Deadliest_ T.V. show starts filling your head with all these horrible things that could happen to Beca. "Sh-sh-should I call 911?! Oh my God! Bec, what do I do?!"

"Hey you're fine," Beca's voice is calming even when it feels like you're experiencing your second anxiety attack for the night. "It's just a house spider-non poisonous." She tosses the dead spider outside of your window and onto the roof before grabbing your hands.

"That didn't look like a house spider, Beca." You may be deathly terrified of these insects, but you at least know the difference between a harmless house spider and a _venomous_ one.

Beca is acting strangely calm after just getting bit, but assures you that she's fine even when her face resembles as if she just saw a ghost. "I think you forget I'm a witch with the ability to heal myself. I'll admit, it was a...pretty venomous spider-"

" _No_ _shit_ , Beca!" You're back to freaking out, wanting to help your girlfriend but not knowing what to do.

"But I'm _fine_ ," Beca assures once more, this time adding a more convincing volume to her voice that eases you down a little bit. "Seriously, Chlo, I'm just _fine_. It hurt more than anything, but only for a few seconds."

You're hesitant at first, still wanting to send Beca to the hospital to just be safe, but Beca wouldn't lie to you.

So you believe that she is fine.

* * *

 **2 Days Until Blood Moon**

At first, you thought nothing of it.

Beca seemed _normal_...she seemed fine when you two returned back to the cabin after taking that spontaneous trip to Barden and you immediately googled what to do after getting bit by a black widow. You first ran through the Webmd symptom list, making sure Beca didn't feel any burning, nausea, difficulty breathing or abdominal pain before demanding her to wash the area and handing her some pain medication to take.

"I've washed my neck like a hundred times, Chlo, I think it's good."

"Nope, wash it one more time just to be safe."

And she did wash it, but not _silently_ , and you could hear her grumbling to herself from inside the bathroom.

She did tell you how much she appreciates the natural doctor in you, but declared she was feeling great, and she kissed you until you _believed_ her.

After all that, she sat and listened to everything- _every single_ last word you had to say about being back in the Bellas house after almost getting killed in it last time. She let you speak for hours without dozing off, or asking questions.

She just let you vent and she held you in her arms when it came time for bed and it was _perfect_.

It was _normal_.

But the distant behavior when Beca has _never_ been the one to give you space before, the way you _know_ she's keeping something from you terrifies you.

The first time you notice it was this morning; you happened to wake up to an empty bed, the sheets were cold, which meant that Beca has been gone for quite some time. You drag yourself out of bed when you realize what time it is and how it's way too early for your girlfriend to be roaming around willingly. Wrapping you nude body with the thin, flannel sheet covering Beca's mattress, you search around the silent cabin for your girlfriend and hopefully will able to convince her to come back to bed.

Because even for her size, she provides a lot of warmth that you're unable to sleep without.

When you make through 70% of the house without a sign of seeing Beca, you start to panic. Like, maybe she left without telling you, or something bad has happened to her and there's just _endless_ possibilities of where she could've gone. However, you're not worried enough to wake anyone; Lou, Stacie or Aubrey, who are most likely sleeping still, so you continue searching the cabin.

The sounds of retching hits your senses and you follow the sounds enough to realize they're coming from the basement bathroom. Needless to say when you push open the door, you find the person you've been searching for hunched over the toilet, one hand gripping the seat for dear life, the other holding her hair and your heart aches seeing Beca like this.

"Oh baby." Immediately, you take over holding Beca's hair back, rubbing small circles on the girl's back as she continues vomiting and reassuring to her that she's okay. It's not done purposely (you promise) but you couldn't help but notice that the substance her body is attempting rid is black.

And black like tar, almost, and that observation skyrockets your fear through the roof when remembering the spider bite that's now swollen red on her skin, but you don't voice it to Beca just yet and wait until she is finished.

Flushing the toilet and hoping to control your fear when you speak, "Becs, what's wrong? I thought you said you felt fine," you ask cautiously as you hand Beca a glass of water that was nearby down to where she is leaned up against the wall. It couldn't of been what you guys ate last night because you feel fine, and you assume the rest of the cabin does, so that idea is out.

Plus, Beca looks really pale; a scary amount of pale with a mixture of exhaustion and just looks all around _drained_. Her eyes have lost their stormy blue color and look sunken in like a skeleton and bloodshot. Her hair has lost its shimmer, lips are cracked open, but you have no idea how because she looked fine- _great_ even last night.

But now, she looks so weak.

And her bite mark from last night doesn't look like it's healing in any way shape or form.

During the time you wait for her to say something _-anything_ , you notice she wont stop rubbing at the back of her neck, the same spot you remember her getting bit last night and how she occasionally hisses when her hands touch a certain place. Her necklace is also suddenly missing; a necklace you haven't seen her discard _once_ during the time you've known her, so that observation brings a series of other questions to ask.

Done in the least fluid way, Beca struggles to stand and pushes right by you without a single care to lean against the sink, not decency to reply back to you. She grunts and groans the entire way there and dismisses your presence as if you weren't even there, trying to figure out what to do.

Startled by her lack of, well, _consideration_ , you take in her state and how she definitely doesn't look okay. "Honey, I kind of need to know what to do. Is it the bite-"

"I'm _fine_ , Chloe." Beca snarls at you for the first time ever and you flinch at the scary bite in her tone and raise to her voice. Head down towards the sink and blowing out deep breaths of air, her knuckles turning white from gripping the sink so tight, "just...go back to bed," she orders in the same tone and this time you can tell she's in a lot of pain, but doesn't let you attempt to help before she's gone.

You tried calling out for Beca, a knot in your throat and on the verge of crying.

But then again you completely forgot your girlfriend is in a bizarre mood and is scaring you with how sick she looks-though she doesn't want your help- so pushing her probably wouldn't of been the _best_ idea.

 _Jesus_ , even slipping into the same bed ask Beca when you return back to the room felt like poking a bear.

From there it only gets worse.

She _barely_ talks to you during the time you two spend together when usually the conversations exchanged could go on for hours without either of you running out of things to say. To make this worse, she straight up _yells_ at you before bed when you ask her once again if everything is alright when you know for a fact that it isn't because she has thrown up at least three more times since the morning.

"As I said before, Chloe, I'm fine, _dammit_. Leave me alone and go to sleep."

 _Ouch_.

And you do, eventually, but after you cry yourself to sleep at the absence of Beca's security wrapped around your body and her harsh words replaying nonstop in your head.

* * *

 **1 Day Until Blood Moon**

You try to convince yourself that yesterday was a fluke, and that Beca happened to be in a funk that all of a sudden put her in a nasty mood. She's grumpy, you'll admit that, but she's _never_ acted the way she acted yesterday towards you. Acted like she didn't care, or have any interest in what you had to say.

Acted like she _didn't_ think the world of you

Acted like she didn't love you.

And usually you'd tell yourself you're overthinking this, probably because tomorrow is the night of the blood moon and everyone's life is at risk, so that's a lot of pressure to put on someone.

You'd tell yourself that Beca is fine and she'll get over whatever it is that's bothering her and she'll go back to cuddling you at random times of the day while insulting whatever music you have playing on the speakers, or kiss you in ways that takes your breath away, but you don't.

You know Beca isn't _fine,_ yet you have no idea how to help, or if you can even help when calling emergency services is not an option due to the fact this cabin is hidden away from society for a reason.

But you don't know how much longer you can take her pushing you away.

It's late in morning when you wake up; you're more than a little startled to see Beca sleeping next to you this time, but you guess you wouldn't of noticed anyway since she's basically falling off the other side of the bed, avoiding your touch like the plague. You sigh sadly to yourself when you leave the room after one last glance at Beca, trying to hide the constricting pain you feel inside your chest.

In the kitchen, you notice that the coffee is already made and there's a warm plate of french toast sitting on the stove with only one person who comes to mind that would leave something this delicious. Walking around to the food and freshly brewed coffee that fills the air with that heavenly scent, you find a note; a note written in, like, the _fanciest_ cursive you have ever seen, minus Beca's.

 _Enjoy some of my homemade favorite. Went to run some errands in Buckhead._

 _Don't you kids do anything I wouldn't do (there's not a lot)_

 _-Lou_

You smile for the first time in days, but that smile quickly flips upside down into a frown when realizing this and you hate that the reason is revolved around Beca. Usually, Beca would be the main and only reason why you couldn't wipe that megawatt size smile off your face that _literally_ hurt your cheeks. Not the bad mood, uneasy feeling you've recently been experiencing lately reason.

And you hate to admit you feel some anger towards Beca.

Hell, you're actually really freaking pissed off at the girl-no, screw that. You're **infruitaed** with the girl because tomorrow is the blood moon and she decides to act like the world's biggest asshole _days_ before a night that could end your life?

 _Seriously_?

Maybe she's scared, but _hello_ , you're scared too, but you're not the one pushing people away.

She is.

Aside for all the anger you have bubbling up inside your body (it's a very unwelcoming and uncomfortable feeling and you dislike it a lot) you also feel a tremendous amount of hurt. Beca always told you when something was wrong-though it didn't start that way and when you two first met, getting the truth out of her was like pulling teeth from a baby.

But eventually she got over it and told you everything.

No matter how big or small.

Now, you guess, you're kind of confused on where all that went, but mostly you're hurt.

And it _fucking_ sucks that you're hurting because of Beca; the one person you'd never think twice about hurting.

Too upset to enjoy the breakfast Lou has made for the cabin despite the delicious smell radiating off them and your strong love for french toast, you pour yourself a cup of coffee and take a seat at the kitchen's table, wanting to clear your mind away from Beca.

"Hey."

You jump at the sudden voice joining you in the kitchen, too lost in thought to hear them come in. When you turn around to face your guest, you're greeted by the one person who has been causing these thoughts, poisoning your head with doubt and pain. There's an awkward amount of silence surrounding you two in the kitchen, as well as an uneasy amount of distance that Beca keeps, both very uncommon displays of affection.

"How are you?"

You huff a laugh out of pure shock, disbelief and irritation all combined, so appalled that Beca would ask this when she knows exactly how you are. " _Fine_ ," but you save your breath trying to express how you're feeling. The last time you tried to do so you got your head bitten off, so hard pass on trying to talk to Beca even though this is the first time since yesterday afternoon she has tried to talk to you.

There's no response back from Beca; she just stands there, dressed in dark blue jeans, some beaten up chucks and a black, v-neck t-shirt while twiddling her thumbs and stares at you from the distance. Her hair is down, flowing in waves over her shoulders, face has barely any makeup on it-it's definitely your favorite Beca looks despite the the sickness still shown in her face (though she _does_ look better). If it weren't for the fact that she's earned her title of the World's Biggest Jerk, you'd compliment how cute she looks right now.

But it is the case, so you tear your stinging eyes away from Beca's presence no matter how hard it is to do so and focus back down into Beca's ' _I dont give a sip_ ' coffee mug, trying your hardest not to cry.

Every once in a while you switch your gaze from the caramel color liquid and steam coming from inside the mug to outside the kitchen window, the autumn trees that are losing their leaves and birds giving you a sense of peace. The time you look away from all the nature outside is when Beca places a hand over your shoulder and you absolutely _hate_ the fact that your reaction is to tense up.

"I'm so sorry, Chloe."

You know Beca sees it, the way you-for the first time _ever-_ feel uncomfortable under her touch; a touch that you more than often crave, but now feel a sense vulnerability. You can hear it in her apology that takes you off guard and the way it sounds like her voice is about ready to shatter.

You can see it in the way she's looking at you with all the love you remember her having for you in her bloodshot eyes, reminding you of the most memorable moments spent together.

Seeing the emotions and how she's just as hurt as you are, and remembering all the love you have for this girl, you crack. "Beca, what's going on? Are you okay?" you ask, unable to stop the tears from filling your eyes when you notice Beca's are doing the same.

A single tears rolls down Beca's left cheek and you move to hold her hands faster than you can even process you doing it. She doesn't answer you back, but this time you're not upset about her sudden muteness. At least now she's showing some display of emotion and it doesn't feel like you're living in a cabin with a walking corpse. You wipe at her tear before it can fall, keeping your hand placed lightly on her cheek and almost fall apart when she leans into the touch.

"This isn't you, Bec," you declare weakly. Some would say that you can't know everything about a person with only three months of knowing them-two months dating- but you do, and you're _certain_ that the way Beca is acting is something that is completely opposite of who she really is.

Lingering her lips on your palm when she kisses the inside of your hand just once, "I gotta go," she croaks out, voice wet and strained and again, you're taken back by this announcement.

"What? Why?"

More silence.

More tears.

"It's just…" Beca starts, but pauses when her train of thought gets lost. When she starts back up, it's not what you're expecting. "I love you," she declares with so much sincerity, more passion than all the other times she's said it to you in the past _combined_. "So much," she squeezes this out before her words waver off and one hand grabs at your wrist being held up to her face while the other one lands on your cheek.

Hidden in her eyes is something that you catch, but can't explain. It's a new stare Beca is giving you; a stare that looks like a silent scream for help but unable to do so. She stands to her tippy toes to place a kiss on your forehead, a sweet, loving gesture you've missed along with those three heartfelt words.

 _God_ , how you've missed this so much.

"I love you too, Bec, but please. Tell me what's going on-"

"I gotta go," she says all of a sudden, cutting your sentence off. Her voice is more clear, louder and grim, as if she just went through a full personality switch from the loving, sweet Beca who you fell in love with, to... _this_ one who is now walking away from you in the kitchen, not giving a shit about your crying pleas for her to stay.

For her to just _stay_.

"I'm sure she's fine, Chlo," Stacie, who has been trying to comfort your weeping ass all day, assures, though you don't believe it. "She's Beca _fucking_ Mitchell, badass witch hunter. Anyone who starts beef with her has a death wish."

"How do we know? She didn't take anything with her, so we couldn't even track her if we wanted," you say in between sobs, blowing your nose with the box of tissues Aubrey gave to you before joining the group on Beca's bed.

The same bed that smells _just_ like Beca, her permanent cigarette scent mixed with the coconut shampoo she uses. It also doesn't help that you're a crying mess as you lay in Stacie's lap, wearing Beca's old leather jacket, getting the full smell of your girlfriend while everyone tries to lift your spirits up.

But obviously, it's not working because your nose is starting to burn from blowing your nose so much and just like Ariana sang, you think you've ran out of tears to cry.

You haven't cried this much since _The Fox and the Hound._

And that was recently.

Aubrey and Stacie whisper some things back and forth from above where you are laying. You catch bits and pieces of it; Stacie asking where the hell Beca went (boy is that something you'd like to find out, too) and Aubrey telling her that she has no idea, but Beca's car is gone and her cell phone is here, so there's no way of tracing her.

You lift yourself up off Stacie's lap, hair all over the place, eyes swollen and red and they _freaking_ sting from crying for so long. "Why did she leave?" you ask to Stacie and Aubrey, voice tired and now just confused. "Like, before everything that's about to happen with Gail and the Bellas. Why would she leave? Leave _me_?"

"She's not gone for good, Chloe. Don't say that. The girl is _crazy_ about you-she loves you-"

"Then _why_ would she leave?!" You regret the harshness of your tone directed towards Aubrey, the one person who's been there for you once it's out of your mouth, but she seems to take it.

All the bite, all the venom and she still wants to comfort you like the great best friend she truly is when she pulls you in for a hug and you cry into the sleeve of her shirt.

"If she loves me so much, why is she keeping something from me? Why is she pushing me away?"

"I think I know why." Lou appears out of nowhere, startling all three of you.

Your first instinct is to fall to your knees, beg for forgiveness due to the fact that you may or may not be the reason why Beca has disappeared for the last six hours with no sign of returning back and that she probably hates you for it. It's not all facts, but because Beca never explained why she was acting the way she was, it's easy to blame yourself.

You're on your way to do just this, standing up straight, _somewhat_ collecting yourself now that Beca's mom has came back from her errands, but she doesn't allow it.

"It's not your fault, Chloe," Lou assures you softly, tapping her cane over to the bed and you don't know why you feel the need to hug her, but you do.

Probably because she reminds you a lot of Beca, and you miss Beca more than anything that it feels like there's a empty spot in your heart.

And she hugs you back and all the emotions and pain you feel knowing Beca left hits you like a freight train.

You tell Lou everything from the start. How Beca acted these last couple of days, the strange distance, the sporadic moodiness, and the fact that anytime Beca would close her eyes, she'd wake up a screaming, sweaty mess from whatever nightmare she was having. You also tell her about the spider bite after retrieving Gail and Kommissar's spell book last night that Luke and Jade now have.

"I caught her sick in the bathroom yesterday morning. She was throwing up this nasty, horrifying black hunk and looked _really_ pale," you inform Lou when you remember this happening and how she even looked skinnier, more _bony_ in just a short amount of time than you seen her the previous night. "She looked... _ill_ , like something wasn't right and she kept rubbing at her neck, but every time I tried to help, let alone tried to _talk_ to her she snapped."

"Now that doesn't seem right; only being here a few days and I know Beca treats you like her queen."

 _Exactly, Lou,_ which is why you're having a difficult time piecing all of this together and figure out what on Earth did you do wrong.

"And then when she left this morning, she was crying...and...and she _wanted_ to say something! I-I... _know_ she did! I could _see_ it in her eyes that something wasn't right!" you stutter out frantically and when you think you're losing your damn mind, Lou hugs you again, tighter this time, until she knows that you've calmed down and your hysterics are done.

You couldn't help it.

You're _scared_.

And it doesn't even matter you're a sobbing, snotty mess in front of your future mother in law.

The only thing that matters is getting Beca back.

With everything off your chest, you find you're speechless now that you've just told Lou all that you knew-everything that Beca left you with and some of what you just assume because no one told you otherwise. No one breaks the silence; your pants for air the only thing heard inside Beca's room. Aubrey and Stacie seek each other for their own comfort; Stacie wraps Aubrey into her arms when you notice she's about ready to cry, as well.

Usually, you're the only sympathetic crier in the room, but now it's your best friend.

Lou allows the silence for a long period of time until she's gently pulling you away from her body; a pained and even _worried_ expression on her face that makes you want to puke. She opens and closes her mouth a few times, no words coming out at first, but eventually she catches onto whatever she's having so much trouble trying to say.

And when she does finally speak up, your stomach literally _drops_.

"Beca's in trouble."

* * *

 **ONE MORE CHAP! Nash and Levon (chapter 14) make an appearance, as well as the night of the Blood moon, so brace yourselves, lovelies ;)**


	19. Chapter 19

**I have NO WORDS. I am emotional b/c this is the end, but I'm so insanely proud of what this story became and the large following/liking it had b/c of all you guys. Words can not explain how thankful I am for all of you who stuck around through this MASSIVE novel and roller coaster of a ride. This is a long, intense last chapter (now split into two), so brace yourselves TWO more times.**

 **I love you all :)**

 **(I DO NOT OWN PITCH PERFECT NOR THE SONGS MENTIONED)**

* * *

 **Chapter Nineteen: Trick-Or-Treat (Part One)**

 _Immortality, come to me._

 _Immortality, I call you to me._

 _Make me immortal, a true immortal I ask of thee._

 _Immortality, enter into me I ask of thee_

 _So mote it be._

 **1 Day Until Blood Moon**

"What do you mean _Beca's in trouble_?" Your intentions of how to ask this question weren't as sharp as how you recently just barked them out to Beca's mother who really doesn't deserve any snap, but your fear happened to get the best of you.

The thought of anything bad happening to Beca and knowing _just_ what is out there capable of making her endure such horror brings an unexplainable sickness to your stomach and _excruciating_ pain to strike your heart.

"I'm going to need you to tell me _everything_ that you noticed about Beca that night before you saw changes," Lou orders to you softly, overlooking the sudden shift in your volume directed towards her.

In a drastically shorter version, you explain everything that happened a few nights back. You go in depth about the spider bite; the eerie description of the insect, the way it practically died _immediately_ afterwards once Beca was bitten and how swollen red it got afterwards. You then explain Beca's unexplainable mood swings and the ghostly change of skin tone she developed the more times you caught her sick in the bathroom.

And you explain the hardest part next, which was the painful distance Beca was putting between you two and how it felt like you were living under a roof with a complete stranger and not your girlfriend.

Lou takes a moment to analyze all of this and you bite your tongue not to rush her thought process because right now, you'd really like to know if your girlfriend is in danger. "Now that doesn't seem right," she mumbles all of a sudden in thought.

"W-w-what do...y-you mean?" you stammer out over the newly formed bubble caught in your throat and how your chest suddenly feels too constricted to speak normally.

Lou doesn't respond back-doesn't even acknowledge your question, which doesn't ease your already increasing fear of who and _where_ Beca could be, hopeless, for all you know, but walks over to the bed. _Slowly_ , but determined. She uses her cane to tap around the room, scouting out all the objects in her way and uses her outstretched hands on either side of her body to guide herself safely around until her shins reach the edge of Beca's mattress.

Aubrey and Stacie share a puzzled glance at each other and then shoot the same one to you while everyone watches Lou blindly scout out Beca's leather jacket without a single word as to what she plans on doing with the material. Ignoring the randomness of it all, she seems to be on to something by her lack of explanation and dire _need_ to find Beca's jacket, so you three allow her to continue her search until she lands on the leather material on her own.

You watch in utter awe as Lou hovers her hands across the leather, mesmerizing every inch, button and snag in the material with using just a graze from her fingertips.

Lifting the clothing, she slowly raises it up to her nose, inhaling all the scent left over before she inhales sharp and loudly, again, into the roof, as if her soul just levitated from within her body, similar to a power you've all witnessed before when she used heightened senses to look through everyone's past.

Though you have _no idea_ how that special ability could assist you guys _now_ when Beca is missing and no one knows _where_ she could be.

You gravitate towards Aubrey and Stacie, who without hesitation, hug either side of you for comfort as your eyes are fixated on Lou's motionless form and you cling on _tightly_ to Aubrey's hand to the point of breaking the limb. Your bottom lip gets bitten between your teeth as you wait for Lou to come back from where her powers have taken her, _hopefully,_ with good news as to Beca's whereabouts and your stomach is churning in ways never experienced before.

Palms are sweaty from anticipation ( _sorry Aubrey_ ) you can feel your thunderous heartbeat _pounding_ against your throat and _booming_ through your eardrums and the tears keep pouring down your face like twin waterfalls-though you don't really know if they ever _stopped_.

Suddenly, Lou gets reeled out of whatever... _place_ …she was brought to, breath ragged and the mask of fear highlighting her features when the color to her skin returns. Seeing this; the way her bottom lip trembles, the beads of sweat layering her forehead, the traumatized shake to her hands and the furrow knit to her brows only spikes up your own fear, causing more tears to run down your face.

Wherever Beca is, it doesn't seem like a good place for her.

Allowing some time for the older witch to get a hold of herself to the point where her breathing returns back to normal, "what just happened?" Stacie asks as cautiously as she can, keeping her hold around your shoulders tight and the way she brushes her fingers against your arm is comforting.

Not enough to make you feel all that great, but when your girlfriend is missing and her mother- _the greatest freaking witch on the planet_ \- has some sort of out of body, freaky vision, the unsettling nerves are to be expected.

"Divination," is all Lou says as she sits slowly onto the mattress to regain her strength and it's not too much of a shocker that no one else in room has anything to say to this. Sensing everyone's confusion, she explains weakly, "the ability to obtain direct knowledge of an object, person, location, or physical event. With Beca's jacket, I could look... _deeper_ … and figure out where she is."

"Does Beca have that power?" You finally find your voice; a small, _fragile_ voice that comes out croaky and groggy under the giant knot that formed inside your throat from all the crying.

"It's called the Seven Wonders, including telekinesis, concilium, pyrokinesis, divination, transmutation, vitalum vitalis and descensum. Some witches, like myself, have obtained all seven abilities. Witches like Beca have only obtained few, like concilium, which is mind control and telekinesis. She has developed her own unique powers, however, such as illusion manipulation, clairvoyance and the gift to heal, much like my resurgence ability."

If at any other time, you'd be in awe over what a treasure your girlfriend is-something you already knew but always seems to take you by surprise at what exactly she can do- but right now, your only concern is to find her before it's too late. Also, half of what Lou explained sounds like a complete foreign language and you'd really like to learn about what... _all that means_.

So, you break away from Stacie's hold and retract your hand back to your side, holding yourself as tall as you can get before speaking up.

"So you used divination to somehow see where Beca is?" Lou nods her head as you put together the pieces to the puzzle consisting of all this confusing witch stuff. "What did you see?"

"Gail has Beca," Lou gets straight to the point and you really, _maybe_ , wished for some fluffing, or comforting words to add to this bit of news because the punch in the chest you are stricken with at the name drop probably wouldn't have hurt as bad as it did. "For now, she is as safe as she can get with them; she seems to be locked up in what looks like the basement-it's far too dark to actually pinpoint where in the house she is and it looks like she's locked inside of something. Something dark and has about as much as a shoes box worth of space."

You search for Aubrey's hand again, unsure why you even thought you'd be strong enough to handle the truth without _some sort_ of physically contact from your best friend after hearing the _worst_ possible news about where your girlfriend is. Your chest is constricting in a way that makes it hard to breathe, your stomach is scrambled and the urge to crash down to your knees and wail seems like your last resort.

But you know you have to stay strong.

For Beca.

Especially because she is in trouble.

"Is she okay?" you choke this out, not sure if you'll be able to handle anything that isn't good news.

"From what I can see, she looks awful," Lou replies back bluntly and a small whimper sneaks out as you try to keep yourself from crying anymore. "But that's what was expected when she was poisoned by that Goddamn black magic, voodoo _bullshit_."

"Voodoo?" Stacie echoes confused, glancing at Aubrey for some clarification, but receives nothing but a shoulder shrug instead' she's just as clueless as everyone else. "By Gail and Kommissar?"

"No."

Both you and Lou respond in unison; you know by previous mistake of comparing voodoo and witchcraft like they were the same thing and got an _earful_ from your girlfriend in return. Though they have their similarities after Beca thoroughly explained them, all in all, witchcraft is a practice and voodoo is a religion.

A religion popular in the origin of Baton Rouge Louisiana, which can only mean one thing-that thing being Gail and Kommissar had help abducting Beca.

"Cynthia Rose," Lou admits with a sigh, face deflating at her discovery though the rest of the room has no idea what the name means. "Related to Marie Laveau-Voodoo Queen. She's highly known throughout New Orleans, still to this day even after her death. Cynthia Rose learned everything she knows from Marie which makes her _extremely_ powerful."

 _Oh this is great,_ you think to yourself.

The last thing everyone needs is more threats, especially since Gail has an army of Bellas under brainwash and an even _bigger_ army of those zombie like Bellas' all ready to attack if anything were to interfere with the Blood Moon ritual. Knowing that there is now voodoo involved, a voodoo _queen_ is more than a little unsettling.

"But this doesn't make sense," Lou grumbles as she shakes her head and closes her eyes as if she's trying to look deeper into the situation for more answers. "Witchcraft and voodoo has a treaty-we are _civil_ towards each other and have been ever since I set it in place a long time ago. They've been true to their word to stay on their territory of land and we'd stay on ours, so that fact that Cynthia would help is something I don't fully understand."

You and Lou both.

There's a huge part of you that wishes to be a bigger help than what you currently are, but still, all this witch and magic stuff is new to you-Hell, if it wasn't for Beca thoroughly explaining who she is, what she does as far as witchcraft and the origin behind everything, you'd be deaf to anything that Lou is trying to figure out.

"It had to be concilium," Lou concludes matter of factly, though the way she sounds about it doesn't sound too refreshing. _Is that the power to make you see things that aren't really there?_ "Gail's is the strongest and even Cynthia's powers to resist Gail's manipulation is no use. Because Beca is immune to her power due to her gift like shield I discovered when she was very young, Gail seeked out someone who she could manipulate and construct some sort of voodoo and poison Beca."

Now things are starting to make sense. Since Gail's magic is useless on Beca's, but she could receive immortality if she were to sacrifice Beca, a white witch, at the blood moon using her blood, then she'd be granted with immortality.

Then the world goes to **shit**.

The Bellas are now used as witches and you'll be hunted for the rest of your life, _girlfriendless_.

"What are we going to do then?" you cut straight to the point, wanting to start on a blueprint plan of how to save Beca before the Blood Moon. The information is nice to know, but all of it is irreversible.

What you need is a plan, maybe some magic ( _most likely a lot of magic_ ) and your girlfriend back and everything will be okay.

Lou hears your concern at bluntly clarifies, "exactly what we've been preparing for this whole time."

You want to laugh at this and have to scrunch your entire face not to smile because you've always had a knack for _preposterous_ scenarios. They always have a knack to tickle your funny bone, you know? This seems to be the _highest_ on the totem pole in the lunatic department because that plan was designed when Beca, a strong asset to the team, was still present.

Not only did Beca have her irresistible charm and killer smirk, she also had an her expert witch killing skills and protection she gave to the whole team.

Now that Gail has her hostage, that protection is gone and there's no way Lou expects you to do this all on your own.

"You need to save Beca."

 _Alright, I stand corrected._

"Um, pardon?" Aubrey seems to be on the same page as you, stunned by Lou's orders to have a bunch of former college girls rescue a witch from a bunch of other _dangerous_ witches before the whole world turns to shit. She's even more taken back when Lou explains that all of them (minus Beca) are going to Barden's woods to stop the ritual before it's too late.

"With all due respect, this is insane," you say through a scoff. Your heartbeat has suddenly picked up now that you're the center of attention and now have Lou's full attention glued to you at your little outburst. "Of course, I want to save Beca, but I c-can't. N-not without... _her_. She was- _ **is**_ my rock! I can't do it alone!"

"You're going to have to, Chloe." Lou doesn't seem to budge and how she is able to hold so much faith in you, an inexperienced college girl who has mediocre aim with a gun, while the life of her daughter is at risk is baffling.

And here is where you cue the pacing, pinching at your nose as you thought run a mile a minute.

"Oh my God."

This is just great.

Fantastic.

 _Wonderful_ news to hear.

Truly.

You stop yourself from pacing back and forth in Beca's room, an action you've been doing since the moment Lou dropped the bomb on you-and not the super good, classic rock track from The Gap Band. "Okay, so you're telling me that I, _Chloe Beale_ , need to rescue my witch girlfriend from being sacrificed at the Blood Moon?" When Lou nods her head, you start pacing again, overwhelmed coming off as an understatement.

 _Oh my god._

 _This can't be happening!_

"You love Beca, don't you?"

This question is enough to stop you in your tracks, a look of hurt washing over your features that Lou could even have the _audacity_ to ask a question like this to you when a couple days ago, you remember specifically and metaphorically pouring your heart out to the witch about how much you love her daughter.

How _dare_ she ask something like this-you're offended that she could even think for the slightest that the feelings between you and Beca weren't reciprocated.

" _Of_ _course_ I love Beca," you snap back defensively, a sudden icy chill running through your veins. Any other time, you'd watch your tone around Beca's mother, but the question was very unnecessary and was able to push you off the edge a bit. "She's my world...my person...my rock. I would do _anything_ for her." Which is terrifyingly true.

"Then it's time to be _her_ rock," Lou tells you as she stands up from the bed, tossing you a small smile that only spikes up your blood pressure and seems impressed by your genuinity behind the words. "She needs you and I _know_ you're more than capable of saving her."

Something snaps inside of you at Lou's words and now all you see is red. There's no more fear, no more tears knowing that Beca is gone, but instead there's a sparking fire only doubling in size by the second. A fire spreading throughout your entire body causing your breathing to pick up and heart rate increase drastically like a rabid dog about ready to pounce and a flash of anger that's hard to control.

About ready to pounce on Gail and become her new _nightmare_ for stealing Beca from you.

Unsure how she knew without you _actually_ agreeing to the plan, but Lou senses your decision and how your body is undergoing a way different reaction from before and curves up a small smile that holds so much revenge hidden underneath that it gives you an eerie chill.

"Then that's... _settled_?" Aubrey's statement is more like a question when she looks back and forth between Stacie and Lou. "We go to Barden tomorrow night and perform everything as planned."

"Oh fuck yeah!" Stacie hollers with a triumphing fist and seems the most excited out of everyone, which is a little concerning knowing her life is now on the line in approximately... _20 hours._ She throws an arm over your shoulders and pulls you into her frame before growling out, "let's get your girl back," in the most threatening tone that raises instant goosebumps across your skin.

And that's all it really takes to fuel your fire, make you clench your fists and grit your teeth to the point of shattering them.

Now that everything is settled, "get dressed girls," Lou instructs while she passes through the middle of you, Aubrey and Stacie and taps her cane around the room to find the door. Just as she's about to exit the room, leaving all of you guys confused as to why getting dressed and leaving the cabin is now on the agenda "And wear something… _ **black.**_ "

* * *

Though you had no idea where Lou wanted to go this late in the night, it all started to make sense after following her directions and driving Beca's challenger into a familiar parking lot to a hidden concert bar located in none other than _bougiee_ , upper class Buckhead Atlanta.

Unlike last time, the parking lot and streets around the venue are almost empty, except for a handful of cars that look just as expensive as the one you're driving, but a lot more black and intense, like they belong to some sort of Anarchy gang.

Especially Luke's giant truck that you've been acquainted with a couple nights ago and a truck you decide to park next to, relieved that there will be at least someone here that you're good friends with.

There's four bodyguards standing at the back doors that you don't remember going through last time you were here when Beca took you guys. You know you'd _definitely_ remember because these guys are **terrifying** , with their arms covered in scary tattoos, the black get ups, all the leather and studs covering their body like jewelry.

 _Oh!_

And the fact that they're definitely packing _fairly_ large weapons in their belt loops for whatever protection you're unsure of.

You're about to ask what the Hell you guys were doing here and if it was safe to walk up to these scary guys as everyone follows closely behind Lou, but the time it takes to get to the door seems non existent. The body guards stand like a brick wall, blocking off anyone to enter the building and are completely emotionless, their faces all covered by black sunglasses that sparks your curiosity as to why they have them on.

At night.

 _Like, was this an intimidation tactic?_

If there was a password you were suppose to remember, or some kind of handshake, you have zero idea of what it could be.

So that's great.

"Boys," Lou greets friendly, seeming to know each and everyone of them when she nods her head.

Without questions, the bodyguards disburse out of their wall blocking the back doors without so much of a fight, offering a small smirk to Lou as she taps her way pass them.

No passwords or handshakes needed.

"Looking good, Lou," One of the bodyguards says all of a sudden during the process of you passing through and it causes you to jump from the deepness of his voice.

"Flattery gets you nowhere, Vince." Lou and the bodyguard, Vince, apparently, share a laugh as she keeps walking; Stacie and Aubrey following closely in tow and looking less jumpy as you are. Also unfazed by everything that's happening involving bodyguards and you guys walking into the building where said _bodyguards_ were blocking off.

Once you relax after getting it through your head that these guys are safe, basically on the same team as you, it's then when you notice the same witch hunting symbol tattooed on the side of his neck next to a bunch of other scary tattoos that cover his skin; the two opposing, crescent moons caging a black sphere. As you are examining the tattoo not as covertly as you hoped, he offers another personal head nod down towards you before giving you what looks like a sympathetic smile.

And it's bizarre coming from a man _triple_ your height and size who can beat up The Rock with his pinky.

"We will get her back, Red," Vince promises with his deep, intimidating voice and because you're vulnerable and driven off of rage, sadness and just missing your girlfriend, you give him a nod back as you crane your neck back to look up at him.

You offer him the smallest of smiles as best as it gets and continue following Lou's trail through the doors. It's comforting knowing that Vince (and hopefully) his buddies are willing to risk it all to save Beca. To no one's surprise, she has made quite the impact on everyone and you feel pride knowing how much support she has behind her back.

Inside, there's no music playing and the place is basically _empty_ compared to last time when the place was so packed it was shoulder to shoulder, but the area is familiar. So yeah, you could admit to being a little confused as to why you are here right now, dressed in a black cocktail dress with all accessories to match the shade and wandering around a deserted concert building looking about as helpless as helpless can get.

It's incredibly suspicious, but you trust Lou with your life, so you ask no questions.

You follow her to the bar, which stumps you as to why Lou feels the need to have a drink during a time like this. Mix up an ice cold _martini_ , or patron on the rocks. You freeze on spot in your heels when _zero_ drinks are mixed, let alone even glanced at and instead Lou enters some type of code into the 'time in' clock for the bartenders that suddenly opens up some secret passage in the ground.

Simultaneously, you, Aubrey and Stacie all gasp in shock while witnessing the ground exposing a hidden entry way. The opening is strangely quiet and is done very quickly and you try your hardest to process what exactly is going on and _since when do concerts have secret openings that leads to an undiscovered basement level?_

"This is so _fucking_ cool." Again, Stacie is amazed by everything that Lou is springing onto the group-though you're quite amazed, as well-though a little stunned, but nonetheless amazed.

"This is where all the _magic_ happens," Lou shoots you guys a wink, mostly Stacie who looks like a little kid in a candy shop at this new discovery and you snort at the pun.

Seriously? A secret basement passage that leads to some underground lair that ranges in size _triple_ of what the concert venue is and where most the people-all dressed in the same nighttime shade-from the parking lot is present in. There's also so many weapons surrounding the walls you feel like you just entered Aubrey's great grandpa's farm house in South Carolina on _crack_. This is some _Mission Impossible_ type of fancy technology that you just can't seem to get over.

 _What are the freaking odds?!_

"Little Miss Riding Hood!"

You hear a familiar voice calling from the distance in the basement once Lou leads all four of you guys down the stairs and closes the secret passage door securely. She tells you guys that she needs to find someone to get things taken care of, someone who goes by the name of Adar, who seems to be the real deal, so you wave her off and inspect more of the area.

You catch a familiar face to match with the voice calling your name through the crowd; the nickname a dead giveaway as to who it was before two strong arms engulf you in a tight, yet secure hug. You sink into the taller embrace, getting a whiff of that lovely, lavender scent when you lean your temple on the front of Jade's chest near her shoulder and enjoy the warmth her body gives off.

"How are you doing?" Jade whispers delicately from above, but you're not ready to break away from the hug just yet and only wrap your arms around her waist tighter. The human contact is something comforting after a night like tonight and the last stressful days, so you decide to take advantage of it. "Actually, don't answer that. I know _exactly_ how you're doing and, Chloe, I'm so sorry about Beca."

You're glad Jade is doing most of the talking because you wouldn't know how to respond if she wasn't. It is, however, the first time she has _ever_ called you by your first name, which is fairly small and is kind of... _freakish_ coming from her mouth, but means a lot to you.

"We are going to get her back," Jade declares with a certain snarl to her voice as she rubs reassuring circles over your back, her grip around your body only getting tighter. "And then we are going to make those bitches _**burn**_ for everything that they've done." As if her snarl couldn't get more threatening, it does. All that's missing is white foam to pour from the corners of her mouth when you pull away to look at her and her expression would match the hair raising tone. "And this time...they _will_ die."

Somehow, her rage is transferred into your chest, heating your veins like gasoline and you can't help but curl up a sinister smile, destined to prove her plan right. Luke comes up to stand next to Jade before hooking an arm behind her lower back, giving off the same look of vengeance on his features. Stacie and Aubrey look the same; Aubrey looks as if she's seconds away from blowing with fury, which is equally amusing as it is alarming.

And everyone else around the basement, who now, suddenly, have all their attention glued to you share the same anger bubbling inside your body, mirrored revenge glowing in their eyes and you know these people are here to fight back with you and will keep on fighting until Beca and everyone else is safe.

You give the entire room the same head nod; it's not a lot and doesn't even come close to how thankful you are by the welding of tears you can feel in your eyes, but it's enough for them to mirror the action back. A silent pledge all of them are taking to get Beca back.

It's warming, to have Beca and her mother's coven behind your back, no matter what's at sake for them, but they know Beca as a fearless, loyal leader who they look up to. A leader that's _stronger_ than anything in the world, yet was caught off guard and is in need of help.

 _Their_ help.

And knowing this, you _know_ you're going to go home with Beca once tomorrow night rolls around, the Bellas will be okay and it will be Gail and Kommissar's heads on the chopping block, burnt at the stake for all the harm they have inflicted.

If Gail can build an army, so can **you**.

* * *

For the first time since this whole deal started back at the Bellas' house, you wake yourself up by a _loud_ scream after the images of your nightmare become unbearable to sleep through. Your body springs forward and your hands flail across the sheets for anything to cling onto for support. When they fist up Beca's flannel sheets that cover your lower half, you almost break every finger on each hand by the intense force you squeeze the material at.

Tears never come like you expect them to do, though you are positive you might hyperventilate if you don't get some air into your body immediately and the constriction of your chest muscles makes the entire situation ten times worse. There's also a knot in your throat, which now aches from screaming for only God knows how long and your mouth feels like absolute _sandpaper_.

Eventually, you catch your breath and try to slow your breathing, even though the constant feeling of your lungs about to protrude through your chest is still present. Across your entire body lays a layer of cold sweat and there's an eerie chill around the room the raises goosebumps all over when you kick off the bed sheets.

Dragging an unsteady hand through your knotted hair that's tangled from the sweating, you take a look at your surroundings, getting familiar with Beca's room to calm you down, something you've always done since you were a little girl to soothe you down after a nightmare. Once you find something that brought familiarity or joy to your life, the after effects of the nightmare start to ease.

Except, the _one_ thing that keeps you grounded, protected and feeling _safe_ is gone, and her side of the bed is empty and cold.

And now you really don't feel safe at all despite the nightmare being over.

It's the first night in a month you've had to sleep alone, and though that's not a long time and _oh my God, Chloe, stop being so clingy_ , not having Beca to cuddle up next to is _**heart**_ _**wrenching**_. It also doesn't help that once tomorrow night rolls around, there's a slight possibility of _never_ being able to sleep next to Beca that is imprinted inside your head and a possibility you can't for the life of you stop thinking about.

Hence the multiple awakenings throughout the night that has prevented you from any form of sleep when terrible things keep happening to Beca or Aubrey, or Stacie or even yourself.

Figuring any type of sleep is out of the question now that you've been woken up in cold sweats _multiple_ times, you slowly slide out of bed for a glass of water in the bathroom, cautious of your trembling limbs when your feet come in contact with the wooden tiles and the sudden paranoia that is an unhelpful side effect after the nightmare you just had.

The cabin is cool from the autumn breeze and empty-and it's not because what makes the cabin... _the cabin_ is gone, but there's something else. When you make it into the bathroom and only slightly flinch at the brightness when you flip on the lights, you take a look at your appearance through the mirror and wince when you realize it's not a pretty one.

To say the least, you look like absolute _shit_. Literal horse shit and you feel like it too. There's bags under your eyes, as well as the whites surrounding your blues are a dark bloodshot color that resembles a mask that looks like you haven't slept in _ages_ and there's pieces of hair sticking to your forehead from the amount of sweat.

And that's just the outside appearance talking.

Inside, the empty hole in your chest which belongs to Beca, the bubbling fear, permanent queasy feeling and immediate chills you get underneath your skin is even _worse_.

Filling up the sink cup and taking a large gulp of it, you grip at the edges of the sink, allowing your hair to curtain on either side of your face as you look down and watch the water from the fountain run. The chill is refreshing when you fill your palms with the clear liquid and splash it over your face, riding the salty sweat and stickiness from your face.

By now, your heart has steadied its pace and your breathing is somewhat _normal_ , for the most part. You're far less scared and the tremble in your limbs has stopped. However, there's still an empty feeling in the pit of the stomach; a hole that's uncomfortable and makes you feel queasy and a missing piece that is something you can't just push aside.

Which is why you don't return to yours and Beca's room, but instead head down the dark hallways until you're faced with a closed door belonging to the other couple who, as well, hold a special place in your heart. You knock at first, cautiously, just to be polite and not really wanting to walk in on your friends' _private_ time despite it being three in the morning. When you don't get a response back, you assume they're both sleeping.

And so with one hand covering your eyes, leaving a small slit between your fingers to be able to see where to walk, but able to block out anything too _revealing_ , just enough in case there's _a lot_ more skin than you feel comfortable seeing ( _sleeping in the nude is rather comfortable_ ) you twist the doorknob to open the closed door.

Slowly, you enter the guest room that is somewhat lighter than Beca's due to the open window and the fact that an almost full moon is glowing a bright yellow hue inside the room, making the sleeping pair visible upon entering and _thankfully_ wearing appropriate nightware.

Other than the lack of fancy electronics, the _homey_ feeling and the major downgrade in size, the room is also a lot colder than Beca's, which makes you wrap your arm around your body for warmth. You remember the conversation between Aubrey and Stacie about how Stacie _loves_ to sleep in the cold because, " _I have a lot of body heat, a lot of body, too, Bree, and I sleep better when I'm not sweating my ass off."_

Which, like, same; you and Beca love sleeping in the cold, but this is Antarctica.

You quietly creep up to the bed in effort to avoid all the creaks in the tiles, noticing that Stacie and Aubrey are out cold in a deep slumber; Stacie spooning Aubrey from behind and Aubrey's arm wrapped securely over the hand pressed flat against her stomach.

At any other time you'd smile at the sweetness of it all and the fact Stacie is so tall her body is practically _eating_ the blonde, and Aubrey looks-honest to God- happy, but right now you can't help but feel envious that the couple is sleeping peacefully in each others arms and _not_ having nightmares.

Nor is one of them held for ransom.

Curling a piece of hair behind your ear and only feeling _slightly_ awkward about waking Aubrey up from her obvious exhaustion, you bend down to eye level, debating on whether or not you should interrupt your best friend's sleep.

You can hear the faint puffs of breaths she is taking and can hear Stacie making louder breathing sounds from behind, which makes you curve up a small smile as you take the two in. They've come so far; you _all_ have evolved into something... _extraordinary_ , especially Aubrey, who is fast asleep with her girlfriend about ready to fight an army of witches instead of applying for grad schools.

It's not much of a shock, but Beca doesn't only just make you a better _you_.

She makes _everyone_ a better person.

And that's why you guys need to get her back.

Deciding that you _need_ this, "Bree," you whisper quietly in hopes that she'll eventually wake up from your voice and not having to get physical, but she doesn't budge. " _Bree_ ," you try again, this time adding a little poke to her shoulder and hope she's not startled by the increase in your volume, or the sudden touch.

And then you give a poke to her cheek.

And then _another_.

It receives a slight stir, but she's not awake yet. You then decide to give a more aggressive shake to her body and suddenly, yep, it works, because all of a sudden there's a small handgun in your face.

A look that can kill determined to blow off the intruder's head at first, but then deflates when she notices who the intruder is, eyes wide as saucers "Jesus Christ, _Chloe_!" Aubrey whisper shouts as she retracts the weapon to place back underneath her pillow and gives you a scolding mother look. "Are you _insane_?! I could've shot you!"

A long, dragged out groan comes from behind Aubrey when Stacie flips over to her back and grumbles out something along the lines of "be quiet, please. Trying to sleep" but everything is too jumbled together.

"What's going on, Chloe? And why are you sneaking into our room when you and I both know that sneaking up on people during a time like _now_ is insanely stupid? You of all people know how sensitive my reflex is."

You don't really know what to say or do except stand there dumbfounded in one of Beca's black, _extremely_ oversized Jack Daniels t-shirts that is faded, has some holes and smells like a mixture of coconut and cigarette smoke, but nonetheless smells exactly like Beca.

Apparently, Aubrey has learned a lot from Beca when memories of first, _multiple_ encounters with the witch hunter come flooding back into your head, all of which that involved some sort of weapon to be pointed directly at your face and resulting in heart failure for you at the moment, all because you decided to sneak up on Beca unexpectedly.

Instead this time, your skeleton doesn't jump from the inside your body out- _Hell_ , you don't even _flinch_ when the barrel was pointed right up to the tip of your nose, but instead burst into a fit of tears until Aubrey is ushering for you to join her in bed with a sympathetic worry now highlighting her features. You couldn't help it; the dam broke when the scene remind you too much of your girlfriend.

Your girlfriend who is in _danger_ and someone you might not not ever see again.

And now just thinking about it, you could really use some cuddles.

Carefully without waking up Stacie (who _apparently_ sleeps like a damn rock since she has yet to wake up, let alone stir at the ruckus) you get into bed and slide underneath the covers where Aubrey is lifting them up. You press your back firmly to her front, sinking into the mattress and the immediate security her arms bring when they drape over your side to hold you.

It reminds you a lot of those long nights back at the Bellas' house when you'd be stressed out of your _mind_ and you'd seek the entire house for your friend, who might not seem like a cuddler, but is actually a _big ol' teddy_ _bear_ at heart. Especially when it comes to you and plus, she's tall and warm. Imagining life without your best friend is a life you can't imagine living in, yet once tomorrow night comes around, you might not be going home with her, either.

And that _kills_ you.

You're thankful that Aubrey doesn't pressure you into talking and instead just holds you while you get a grip on your emotions enough to find your voice. For the first time in a couple days, you feel safe, something you've been longing for ever since the Bellas' masquerade party before everything went to absolute shit. There's still an empty feeling inside you; Aubrey's touch is comforting and you're grateful for everything she's doing for you, but she's not Beca.

"Are you scared?" Aubrey eventually breaks the silence by whispering this into your ear while she continues tracing up the length of your arm with her nails, causing you to shiver. It's almost quiet enough that you miss it under Stacie's ( _uncharacteristic_ ) snoring and the ceiling fan spinning above the bed, but you hear it clear as day.

After a moment of processing what you actually _feel_ in this moment, you shake your head, faintly, at first as an answer. It doesn't match the previous tears you just spilled out of nowhere, but whatever. You're not really sad, _persee_ , either, but you feel something else conjuring up inside you that you can't put a finger on.

"No," you whisper softly.

More silence.

Then you speak up, again.

"I'm not scared," you clarify and your voice is rough and croaky, but still audible for Aubrey to hear. Clearing your throat, hoping it will add a little more edge to your voice, "I'm... _angry_." Emitting the word out loud feels like a thousand pounds just lifted off your shoulders, but it only boils your blood more. "No, I'm fucking... _furious_ and I-I...I want my _fucking_ girlfriend back...and I want things to be normal. Just... _fucking_ normal." You're breathing heavy, clenching your jaw and fists and your heartbeat is erratic, but it feels good to let it out.

From behind, Aubrey doesn't say anything back, though you swear you feel her start to grin into the back of your head where her mouth is pressed against and feeling this makes your lips twitch upwards, as well. Maybe you're crazy that you're finding joy in this realization, who knows. What you do know is that you're ready to fight back.

Another arm gets thrown around both you and over Aubrey's midsection; Stacie's hand doesn't make it far on your body, but her hand rests right above Aubrey's that's laying on your stomach, securing the both of you into her tall frame.

After a content smile given once your body is swarmed with your friends' warmths mixed with the chill from the room, the weight of your eyelids become almost impossible to keep open. When you hear Aubrey's breathing behind you mix in with Stacie's soft breaths, you give a long whiff to Beca's shirt, easing your tension with her familiar scent that you miss so much and allow your eyes to close completely.

And then you drift away when you body starts to relax, hoping this time you won't be startled awake by anymore nightmares.

* * *

 **Halloween-Blood Moon**

The sun beaming through the opened window is bright enough to cause you to stir and this time, the weight of Aubrey's arm hooked over your side is missing, but you're submerged in a mountain of blankets. It takes several blinks and a quiet hiss to yourself to get adjusted to the brightness of the room ( _Jesus, Beca's really rubbing off on me_ ) but once you do, you catch faint whispers from behind where your back is turned, causing you to freeze.

"Not that I'm complaining, because I'd be insane not to appreciate waking up to two, _smoking_ hot girls in my bed, but why is Chloe sleeping with us?"

Without turning around, you can tell by the voice it's Stacie's who's quietly talking to Aubrey, still laying in bed, but sitting upright. By the sting in your eyes, you know you could still fall asleep if you just close them, taking that it is only seven in the morning and you only got a couple hours of sleep.

 _Decent_ sleep.

But their conversation keeps you awake for the time being.

You hear Aubrey shush Stacie and you assume she thinks you're still fast asleep. Wanting to hear what other nonsense is to be talked about between the couple without going noticed, you decide against flipping over to your back and instead, continue to fake sleep, but remain listening.

"She came in last night- _scared_ me half to death to the point of almost shooting her," Aubrey whispers rather quietly and now that the nightmares are long forgotten and you're in a better mood, you have to bite your tongue not to snicker. "It took me a moment to realize it was her; she was just standing there like a total creep watching us sleep."

"Seriously? And I slept through _all_ of that?"

"See? Believe me now when I tell you that you sleep like a literal _rock_? Waking you up is a living nightmare."

"Shit, I guess you're right." Stacie snickers quietly and there's a moment of silence exchanged between the two except for the faint sounds of pages turning from a book. "How's she doing?"

Aubrey sighs tiredly and you think you can feel both pairs of eyes staring hard at the back of your head, which makes your entire body tense as a reflex. "Well, taking that she woke up in the middle of the night bursting into tears and spent the night with us, I'm going to take a _ballpark_ guess and assume she's struggling."

"Understandable." More silence, except for the morning birds chirping outside and Aubrey continuing to skim through whatever she's reading. "She's a tough little cookie."

"When it involves people she loves, that's an understatement," Aubrey responds just as quiet as before and there's some shuffling going on behind you, but neither bed mates seem to have gotten off. Aubrey does, however, seem further away and closer to Stacie. "And with the amount of love she has for the hobbit, she's out looking for blood."

"Poor thing. I feel so bad for her."

You can hear the sympathy in Stacie's voice, which only warms your heart. Truly, the both of them have been nothing but your silver linings these past few days without Beca. It's been rough, rougher than rough, both you _and_ the situation and no words could express how thankful you are for these two to help you through it.

Aubrey runs her nails through your hair and you try your best not to shiver at the sensation. "I do too-I can't even begin to _imagine_ what she's going through. If it were you, I wouldn't know what to do with myself."

"I'd probably be catatonic, so the fact that she's fighting the breakdowns and acting positive is highly impressive."

"Exactly why she's a lot tougher than people think. She's definitely a force to be reckoned with-and that's even _before_ she met Beca."

A smile appears out of nowhere at Aubrey's words, a smile that hopefully no one catches the raise in your cheek and ear because you're still pretending to be asleep.

Aubrey halts her scratches through your hair despite your silent pleas for her to keep going. "I know my best friend and _trust me_ , went aren't coming back to this cabin tonight without that little midget."

There's a spark that goes off in your chest, a dash of adrenaline it seems when you remember just what day it is. Hearing Aubrey's faith in you to get Beca back and defeat Gail and her master plan to rule the world gets you even more riled up. Plus, you are eager to get Beca back into your arms and try _hard_ to block out any poisonous thoughts about her being hurt or in worse cases, _dead_.

"Speaking of tonight, any idea what Lou has planned?" Stacie questions curiously. "I at least want to be prepared before I toss myself at some witches."

Again, Aubrey releases a sigh and you know the two of you are on the same page as far as tonight goes. "I have no idea, but I'm assuming we will be taking a trip to Buckhead, get ammunition, create a plan and _hope_ we won't be the ones burned at the stake but instead Gail and Kommissar."

"I can't believe we are doing this. Like, we were _college students_. I for sure never saw myself engaging in anything violent, let alone killing someone. Now, I've been taught to shoot, fight and handle blades. It's...kinda hard to wrap my head around, honestly,"

"Yeah...I know, I feel the same way. I was so focused on school, the Bellas, graduation and a masters program, not goons, goblins and witches." Aubrey chuckles softly. "But Lou is smart-Hell, she's like... _queen_ of the white witch coven, so I know whatever happens tonight I trust her fully."

"Definitely," Stacie says, tagged along with more comfortable silence and you allow yourself to close your eyes again. Maybe you could get a few more hours before you have to kill witches, because chances are you need all the strength you can get. "It's still pretty early and no way will I be sleeping anymore now that tonight is the blood moon."

Stacie's tone sounds... _suspicious_ , but not nearly suspicious enough to interrupt your attempt to fall asleep. There's some more shuffling from behind and you can make out a quiet giggle from Aubrey that's muffled a bit. It's not until you hear the wet sounds of languid kisses being exchanged that you begin to panic.

"Stacie...no- _stop_ ," Aubrey's voice is a lot louder and more stern, but nonetheless not enjoying whatever it is that Stacie is doing to her on the other side of the bed. Quite closely to you, _unfortunately_. "Chloe is _**sleeping**_."

Stacie mimics Aubrey's shushes from before and you can hear the evil smirk she has curving up on her face, as well as some more shared kisses that you're desperately trying to mute out. "You just have to be... _quiet."_

Oh no.

At the _definite_ sultry tone highlighting over Stacie's words that you've gotten familiar with over the past couple months and the sound of an _inappropriately_ wet kiss shared between the couple, your eyes spring open and you shoot out of bed like it's on fire.

"I'm _up_! I'm _**up**_!" you screech before any further moves could be advanced, but keep your back turned towards the couple terrified of what you may witness. "When I'm in bed with you guys- _gross_! Keep it in your pants!" You scold disapprovingly as you try to keep your balance; the abrupt movement made you incredibly lightheaded.

"I _knew_ you weren't asleep!"

Chancing a glance over your shoulders, Stacie's laughing like a hyena at her discovery while Aubrey is trying her best to hide her amusement in the situation, but the humor of it all is shown in the way she half heartedly apologizes to you. You grumble out some complaints and fix your hair so that it's no longer draped over your face from shooting out of the bed so fast.

Pointing an accusing finger at the two who are tangled up in each other like a pretzel; you don't even want to know why the bottom of Aubrey's shirt is pushed up on her stomach, "and you say Beca and I are bad- _good grief_!"

"I'm a woman with needs, Ginge!" Stacie defends from where she's hovering over Aubrey in between her legs as you make a beeline for the door before any funny business starts happening. "Besides, you _technically_ slept in our post sex sheets anyways-"

" _Stacie_!" Aubrey hisses her girlfriend quiet as she seats her in the stomach from underneath, but the two of them are definitely laughing- _assholes_. "She's joking, Chloe!"

"Maybe I'm _not_!"

You're already out the door, but still manage to hear that last part. Unfortunately. Now you're scarred and probably will spend the rest of your free time in the shower, scrubbing off your skin at the idea of their _sex_ germs all over you.

Joke or not, if tonight doesn't kill you, the thought of that totally will.

* * *

Buckhead seemed to be Lou's plan once she arrived back at the cabin and you drove everyone over the the secret lair where Lou's entire army is getting prepared for the night. It's hard to believe, but you think there's _more_ witch hunters here this afternoon than there was last night, which is more than refreshing.

And also kinda awesome.

There's also a lot more _black_ , tattoos, piercings and metal studs around the basement that makes interaction with the people you aren't familiar with only slightly ( _extremely_ ) intimidating. Exceptions include the ones you've already been introduced to the first night in Buckhead, but the new ones-despite their profile- are surprisingly nice and weirdly have the same sense of humor as Beca.

Which makes you miss her more, if humanly possible.

"Now look at all these beauties."

You're stunned completely when Jade opens up the door locked by some fancy, electronic combination and _fingerprint_ before revealing an entire room filled with endless upon _endless_ amounts of weapons that aren't featured in the main room area.

"Beca designed this armory shop for all of us. These are her babies, basically _paradise_ for the little shit."

"I believe it," you breathe out winded, still taken back by all the different types of weapons surrounding you at the moment.

First off, the ammunition stored up in this bunker is enough to shame the US military. Second, _where the Hell did my girlfriend get all these guns, especially the ones that look like they're from the Wild West?_ Not only that, there's blades of all sorts-from pocket knife sizes to machetes and even swords that samurais and ninjas would carry. Kahr Arms P380 to what looks like a M240 machine gun- _holy shit, Beca, are those bombs?_

"I know it comes off as a no brainer that Beca is a _huge_ bad ass, who has a major kink for the steel, but if she had a dick, it'd be just as huge."

"Um?" you don't really know how to respond to this rather crude comment-not that you disagree with Jade whatsoever, but it definitely shows in your startled stare as Jade roams around the room carefree.

As if she **didn't** just talk about Beca in a very _sexual_ , yet strangely descriptive-though a little bit interesting to picture in your head- way, and you're having to fight your girlfriend instincts not to attack.

To help, you remember that Jade likes Luke, a lot, and has declared that the ship with Beca has sailed a long time ago so it helps to get pass the whole ' _dick comment_ ,' referring to Beca and that the amount of times Beca has reciprocated the words 'I love you' is enough leverage.

"Beca is pretty badass," you muster up finally after some time to process.

Jade pauses her walking to look you dead in the eyes. "Seriously, the girl has _major_...big dick energy."

Again, you're too flabbergasted to respond, because _what does that even mean and why does she keep bringing it up?!_

Unable to really say anything else, "Ha..ha," you laugh awkwardly, perhaps too late, and it totally sounds like it, but Jade doesn't seem to notice. Hopefully she doesn't notice the sudden curiosity surrounding the topic and how your mind can't steer away from picturing this added... _detail_.

Jade claps her hands,resuming her search around the armory to make you forget about her previous comment. "Alright, where to start, where to start?"

Overwhelmed by being surrounded by so many options for tonight, you decide that you should probably pick out some weapons. Your feet roam around the room, getting a good look at all your options to choose from while allowing your fingers to trace the many steel designs. It would be idiotic to choose a weapon you're not too familiar with, especially in a life threatening situation, so shotguns are out of the question.

That's more Aubrey's thing anyways since she comes from a hunting family, but you do have to say they're very _large_ and pretty and look super heavy.

Crossbows are for Luke- not that you had the strength to cock the thing anyways. _Trust me, I've tried._

Jade...honestly you have no idea what's Jade's weapon of choice, taking that she's a witch with super _witchy_ powers that are just as dangerous.

You wouldn't be surprised if she was a grenade type of girl; it would suit her firecracker , pop rocks personality.

Knives and blades are a definite **no** ; Stacie's like a _pro_ at handling them after being introduced to this secret talent when she was under Gail's rum. You would probably get your head ripped off if you were to get too close to a witch, so distance weapons are more your style.

But Beca knows you best.

Knows what you're capable enough to handle that would be equally powerful as it was comfortable for you to shoot with and the best gauge to use. You don't know which one has too much recoil, or which one has a good rear sight, and without Beca, you feel very lost looking at all these guns.

"All these weapons are loaded with silver bullets and silver pellets for the shotguns," Jade announces while you scavenge around the smaller more _controllable_ machine guns, but are still just as lost. "I know what you're thinking, silver bullets kill werewolves, vampires and all those other wack ass things, but these ones are blessed. "

Actually, she took the words right out of your head and all you can blame is her clairvoyance. "Blessed? By holy water?" you ask confused at the same time you pull down a Kalashnikov and rearrange the gun until you're in a comfortable shooting stance.

Jade does the honors of unloading a small handgun of all it's bullets into her palm before walking over to you and showing the bullets up close. "Yep, all the way from The Basilica of Our Lady of Peace Church."

"Oh wow." The bullets don't look that much different than an ordinary bullet; they're a lot more shiny and maybe you're crazy, but you think they weigh less. Perhaps it's the fact that they're blessed that makes you think they're some sort of treasure, but really are the same as ordinary bullets. "What happens exactly when a witch gets shot by a blessed, silver bullet."

"Nothing happens to us or even Gail and Kommissar, unfortunately. All those slaves since they're technically _dead_ will be turn to dust if shot with these and knowing that Gail has been sucking the souls from many young girls for ages, she probably has a whole damn army of them ready to be released on us. Needless to say, tonight is going to involve _**a lot**_ of shooting, so chose wisely and always carry a plan B, C and D."

Oh how you wish Jade knew just how hard you were trying to pick out the perfect fit for a weapon, but are failing tremendously.

Seriously, do you pick semi-automatic, break, bolt or pump action and why did someone insist to make so many different categories of the _same_ gun?

There's another machine gun; one much larger in length than what you've been presented with, that's for sure. You read the tag below the weapon, reading that it's a M4 Carbine Command with a grenade launcher, which is an automatic sign that you should definitely choose another weapon.

You do, however, choose your smaller options; a small buffalo hunter knife compared to Beca's butterfly knife, a S&W model 63 revolver and a .454 casull-which is like... _historic,_ when you remember Beca claiming it to be the most powerful handgun in the world.

 _God, I miss listening to Beca talk endlessly about all sorts of different guns._

You take one last look at the M4, admiring its beauty, size and threatening appearance, but knowing for sure you'd end up getting hurt, or in the worse case scenario, _killing yourself_ if you were to try and shoot the beast.

"Trying to steal my gun, Red?" Jade chuckles and her hand slides by your face before retrieving the weapon for herself out of your hands. It's a perfect fit where the butt of the gun presses against her shoulder, like a missing shoe fitting snug on a foot, or a corner puzzle piece. She aims the gun all around the room and even, for a split second, she aims the barrel directly at the middle of your face to make you gulp nervously. "Isn't she a beaut?"

 _I'll say,_ you think to yourself, praising your inner assumptions about Jade being intense enough to operate not only a pretty impressive machine gun, but a machine gun _with_ a grenade launcher.

"Of course we have the specialized bullets Beca made specifically with that reverse potion like substance coating the silver like a blanket, but there's no way Gail won't hold a giant sacrifice without her own weapons."

"The slaves you were talking about?" You don't know what you'd rather hear; Jade confirm to your assumption about witch slaves or something possibly worse than those _God awful_ creatures.

"Oh a plethora of them!"

You frown at Jade's confirmation, feeling a wave of nerves and fear mixed together hit you blindsighted. Yes, you've been scared since the discovery of witches and, yes, Beca made it _less_ scary to think about when she was around, with her good looks, toned muscles, and expertise in weapon handling.

But now that it's up to you to defeat Gail and her cult and that it's happening once the sun goes down instantly chills the blood in your veins and pales you like a ghost.

You're about to give up and collect the Desert Eagle from the display because Beca has made you train with it multiple times in the past and have the experience and knowledge to operate the gun. It's not the largest most reliable gun to take to a giant witch sacrifice you guys are about to crash, but you literally have no idea what other weapon to choo-

"Is that a H&K MP5?" Suddenly, a familiar weapon catches your eye when you spot it hidden within all the other submachine guns. Feet moving on autopilot, you pick up the gun and once your palms connect with the steel, the feeling automatically brings a cheeky grin to your face like you finally found _the one._

"Very reliable gun, Red." Jade is smiling just as wide when she watches you get acquainted with the weapon. "800 rounds per minute, light carry and not too intimidating in size. I'd say it's a _perfect_ fit."

You'd have to fully agree; the weapon feels like how you felt when you were at the dealership with your mom on your sixteenth birthday and you first sat down in your ruby red slug bug. At the time, you felt comfortable, warm on the inside and overall just knew that you and the car were meant to be _._ With the MP5, the feeling is no different and it's bizarre, but there's some sort of special bond you feel.

Plus, _hello_ , zombie apocalypse or fighting off witches, having _this_ weapon on you and you're good to go.

As you're examining every detail of the sub machine gun and pretty sold on choosing this one as you primary weapon, your fingers trace over some sort of engravement where your palm rests. When you look closer at the cursive written on the inner part of the handle, you read, " _Red"_ and know just who exactly customized this weapon for you.

And the realization makes you smile even harder.

"Grab your loaded magazines and lets get back to the group," Jade instructs when you are pleased with your decision to go with the MP5, especially since there's a little piece of Beca you have fighting alongside with you that provides a shield of confidence.

See? You knew there was something special about this one.

Upstairs, everyone is getting together their own personal ammunition bags with their own choices of weapons. You're handed a plethora of stuff; some of the items you know what they are, some of it you're absolutely _clueless_. Regardless, you feel like you're about to go into war with all the weapons, ammo, knives and armor you're ordered to wear.

"Well this will sure look good on a college application," Aubrey comments out of nowhere as she's wrapping a belt filled with serum, ammo clips and pellets to her shotgun around her waist. "Have any special talents? Of course! Saving the world from being taken over by psycho witches and, like, being a _pro_ at shooting a gun."

You don't know whether it's sarcasm or not-everyone is acting a lot more... _tense_ than usual, which is understandable due to the whole _life and death_ situation, but you continue to listen to the conversation anyway.

Aubrey does have a point, however.

Saving the world? That's a pretty big freaking deal.

"I bet you Harvard, Yale and Princeton are already looking at you, babe." Stacie snickers as she is tying up her hair into a ponytail and fixes Aubrey's black bandanna she has tied around her forehead, but completely butchered the look. Tying a knot and placing a lingering kiss on the side of Aubrey's head, "How do you think everyone will treat us when we return missing out of nowhere?"

"I have no idea," is Aubrey's honest answer as she thanks Stacie for the help with a chaste kiss on the lips when turning around and leans the side of her head over Stacie's heart. "I bet you we spend a lot of our time at the police station in questioning and people will either treat us like we are fragile pieces of glass or ghosts."

"This whole situation is going to be chaotic," you chime in, smiling at how you see a little bit of yourself and Beca in the way Aubrey is wrapped around her girlfriend as content as ever while Stacie rests her cheek on the top of Aubrey's head. "But I sure as hell am glad it's going to be over _finally_."And that you'll be able to roam freely with Beca without any fears.

"We get to see our parents again, our siblings and friends," Stacie seems the most excited about this; you, as well, know your mom has probably gone catatonic right now from heartbreak, so you can't wait to see the wave of relief on her face when she sees that you're okay.

"Hey guys," Wade, one of Beca's friends, calls out to the group and points over to the ceiling TV they have hooked up in the lair with his fingers filled with a lit cigarette, now playing Atlanta's most popular news channel. "Check this out."

You walk over with Aubrey and Stacie to get a better look and already recognize the campus to be Barden's, except it looks far more crowded than usual. Every corner of the campus green is filled with police officials, firemen, EMTs, broadcasters and most of the streets around campus are blocked off. When you look at Stacie and Aubrey, you're glad to see the same amount of worry spread across their features as they wait for the background information on why there's so many law enforcement officers present on the scene and _pray_ Gail has nothing to do with it.

The news takes off as the story is being introduced before a reporter at Barden is on screen and speaking into the camera.

" _This year's Halloween truly lives up to its spooky expectations as all ten missing males who currently attend Barden University and have been reported missing one after another have return unexpectedly this morning at approximately nine thirty. Though the victims show no visible signs of serious injuries, or any reported illness, shown trauma is present in all of them."_

The screen shifts over to a camera recording to all the boys being examined in the back of multiple ambulances with a massive crowd surrounding the scene. Everyone is there; Jesse, the twins Dax and Rex, Bumper, Benji, Jason, and the rest of the boys you aren't so familiar with, but have seen them around campus and like the reporter said, they are standing without a mark. At first glance, they even look normal, like nothing is wrong with them except the obvious coats of dirt covering them head to toe.

However, to say they look out of it is an _understatement_. Each one of them resembles a form of a living zombie, who's just as clueless as everyone else and as for their appearance, they definitely look as if they have being buried underground for _months_. As for the trauma, it's a lot more serious than you thought when you notice what looks to be each boys' parents- _mothers_ crying hysterically and looking the opposite of relieved when finding out their sons are alive.

" _Detectives and federal investigators remain clueless about the students arrival, where they came from after gone missing a month ago and who could've possibly executed such mysterious kidnappings involving innocent young males."_

"Satan's mistresses, that's who," Stacie snorts out as she glares at the reporter on the television screen.

"I'm surprised Gail didn't just kill them," Aubrey mentions suspiciously and you'd have to agree completely. It's hard to imagine the _slightest_ bit of humanity hidden in such an awful monster with no form of morals and emotion.

Also, a day ago they were being used as a main ingredient for a giant witch sacrifice, so why they're all of a sudden roaming around Barden, free, is _unnerving_ , to say the least.

"Oh I bet there was some sort of price," Jade grumbles as she continues to pack her ammunition bag while occasionally glancing back towards the screen. "I'm assuming since paramedics, therapists, doctors, and law enforcement can't even get a sound from them that they're mutes. It's easy to control someone with the power of concilium and them being so weak."

"Very true. It makes sense if Gail didn't want them to talk and also get the heat off the Bellas house," Luke chimes in as he finds a spot next to Jade before hooking a secure arm around the lower part of her back. "She's a _bloody_ mastermind, I must admit and unfortunately, those boys aren't going to say a peep so they might as well be dead."

 _That's unfortunate,_ you think quietly to yourself as you catch short glimpses of Tom and those other students. They weren't anyone close to you-some you only said 'hi' to in passing around the campus-but you still feel some sympathy that their lives are pretty much fucked. They didn't deserve anything that happened to them, much like how Barden was perfectly normal, even a little _too_ normal, until Gail and Kommissar decided to ruin everything

Jade rolls her eyes so hard you think it ties for first place with one of Beca's signature eye rolls. "Gail is a bloody mastermind who is going to burn to dust by the end of tonight," she spits out coldly at the same time she slams a magazine clip into her gun while Luke tries to tone down the fire he created.

Hidden beneath her words is something more that you can't put your finger on, nor do you really want to because Jade has already made it clear how powerful she is- _scarily_ powerful in a way that if she wasn't on your team right now, you'd be doomed. However, there's more to the story that involves Gail and herself, which would make sense to the held grudge.

Luke drops a lingering kiss to Jade's temple, smirking at what you imagine to be Jade's plot at revenge hidden in her voice. "We will get her, babe. By the end of that blood moon, the bitch will find her place in the pits of Hell."

By now, the news is long forgotten as everyone gets back to what they were doing prior. None of it really matters anyways; everyone except you guys know the truth about the boys and everything going on in the Bellas' house, so all these broadcasters trying to solve the mysteries when it's literally _impossible_ is just a waste of time.

Immediate silence floods the room when a new presence enters through the secret passageway; the news channel on the tv flashes off and all other side conversations go mute once Lou makes herself seen. It's scarily intimidating how a single person can make a room go silent like she's some type of God who walks on water- _you'd_ believe it, fully.

You watch in silence and even think you hold your breath when you see who it is. She taps her white cane around the room, maneuvering around all other witch hunters with nothing but a stone cold expression.

Levon and Nash follow closely behind, both heavily loaded with weapons of their own; a chainsaw and what looks like a machete, which only adds to the intimation factor. Obviously, they're not here to mess around.

"I can no longer see Beca," is all Lou admits, face remaining expressionless, but there's a tinge of anger lacing her words. "She's okay, for now." The tension around the room that you never noticed before eases, especially yours when you hear that Beca isn't dead. "I'm assuming Gail caught on and put a shield over Beca to hide their location. Luckily, Stacie, Aubrey and Chloe all know where the witch nest is hidden and will be leading us shortly."

"But Lou, Gail released all the captured males early this morning," a guy with face tattoos and metal all over his face (Leo, you think his name is) speaks up and it sparks Lou's interest.

She gives him the green light to explain all about the news broadcast the room just witnessed, to which he does. Lou then seems puzzled by the information as she gets lost in deep thought, leaving the room to endure an uncomfortable amount of silence.

"It's easier to sacrifice one person rather than ten, which means it cuts our time to save Beca in half," she explains calmly unlike how your panic starts to skyrocket at the mention of Beca and her remaining life clock. You, on the other hand, think the choice was rather _risky_ for Gail, taking that of course, she's going to have hunters on her tail prepared to attack. "She will be drained, then burned from the toes to the top of her head if we don't save her."

You shake your head so fast there was a moment you feared it would twist off. "We _are_ going to save her,"

Lou nods her head at your determination, offering a small grin that eases your defensive reflex. "Gail and Kommissar will be very weak, but they have the Bellas unless we destroy the spellbook and the Succubus rum will be reversed."

She glances at Jade who waves the worn down, brown spellbook in the air before shoving it in the inside of her leather jacket, securing the item. "Can't open the piece of shit no matter what Luke and I used, but it's here."

"Doesn't matter," Adar, co-leader of Lou's coven and just as scary, muscular and intimidating as the rest of the male witch hunters ( _he is missing an eye, for Christ sake_ ), cuts in. "As long as we destroy the book during the peak of the blood moon then Gail will have nothing. Her spells will be reversed, hopefully all of them, and all that was associated with the bitch will be vanished."

With confirmation that the spellbook is safe, Lou continues and feeds off of Adar's point with a shake to her head. "She will have nothing except for the slaves, which can easily be taken out with the blessed silver bullets you all are packing."

"But not the... _Bellas_...correct?" you ask nervously with emphasis on the Bellas part and know you, Stacie and Aubrey are the only ones who are wanting to keep these girls alive no matter if they're under the spell or not. "We can't...I-I...can't-I _won't_ shoot them-"

"It's not their fault," Lou intervenes before the tears start pouring from the nerves and you ease up immediately when you hear that the Bellas are safe. You can't imagine shooting any of them; Jessica, Ashley, Lilly- _oh my god, Emily._ "That's why we have bullets coated with the serum Beca created in separate clips and magazines so if they do become violent then we can defend ourselves."

"What about Gail and Kommissar?" you question in thought, knowing they're two _huge_ problems that happen to be very, _very_ dangerous. "Of course we are going to kill them for good, but how?"

Lou ponders off at your question not that she's in a stump, creating a load of silence around the room. Her milky white eyes avoid yours in all ways despite her blindness. In fact, she doesn't seem to pay anyone much attention and keeps her stare pointed to the ground while she thinks. After taking one deep breath, she finally responds back; a last resort type of response.

"If you're able to, silver bullets- _a lot_ of silver bullets, but it's going to be harder than finding a needle in a haystack. If all else fails, I have a plan."

Patiently, you wait for an elaboration on this plan, but it never comes. Instead, Lou changes the subject and starts explaining the seriousness of being face to face with a witch as powerful as Gail and Kommissar; it's unsettling to say the least. You've already been around Gail enough to see her powers- _um, the woods where I was tied up_ -and the stories alone are frightening enough, but you'd like to know how Lou plans on killing the two.

But if she has a plan, you believe that it will be a good one and you drop your concern to listen to all the tips about how to avoid the wrath of two black witches and to, you know, _stay alive._

There's a lot to think about as you prepare to go to war with a coven of black witches; don't take your eyes off the targets, slaves have brooms that appear from the ground (you already know) Kommissar is a pyro, which means she's an expert at handling fire.

So that's fantastic news.

And also a _hot_ tip...get it?

 _I always knew she was a hot head._

What really catches your attention is Lou's explanation of Gail and her powers that seem to go above and beyond her sister's.

"Whatever you guys do tonight, do _not_ look Gail in the eyes," she warns sternly with a certain bite to her tone. "They're cold, empty and dark and it won't be long until you feel the same way. Her concilium is extremely dangerous and will become lethal if she's able to get inside your mind."

"Wow, she sounds like Medusa," Stacie jokes to lighten the mood, but it doesn't even get a snicker in reward and that is why the smile on her face is wiped clean. Clearing her throat awkwardly, "nevermind," and ignoring the disapproving glare coming from her girlfriend, as well as Lou's blank stare on her.

"Honey, you will _wish_ it was Medusa if you're ever encountered by Gail's mind control. The things that woman is able to control-thoughts, emotions, actions, memories...you are going to wish you were _dead_ if you're ever stuck under her spell."

That manages to shut Stacie up as the girl gives a thumbs up, as well as an audible gulp from fear that is comforted by her girlfriend. Aubrey warns her gently to stay quiet to which she easily obliges.

Refocusing back on the previous topic and taking her blind stare off the taller girl, "other than that, you all know what tonight will bring-what you all will be faced with. However, I believe that we are _stronger_ and _smarter_ than anything Gail will put us up against," Lou declares with venom lacing her voice, riling up the group of witch hunters who are more than eager to fight under Gail's leadership.

You, on the other hand, are fueled by **revenge**.

And despite being covered head to toe with weapons and being surrounded by many more, _that_ is your most lethal weapon you're destined to unleash on Gail tonight.

You're driving down the dirt road, leading the pack of other vehicles which belong to the other witch hunters and being the only red car in the group of black. A pack leader driving an army of brave soldiers into the forest where giant a witch nest awaits for your arrival to save your witch girlfriend from being drained like a passing shadow.

Now _this_ is something you never imagined ever doing.

Nor can you believe that you're actually doing this _now_.

* * *

The weather in Atlanta seems to be darker than usual, which seems like a major coincidence taking that it's not only Halloween, but the blood moon as well. There's not a single cloud in sight and all the stars and the moon in their full, beaming glory are shining bright in the blackened sky, but there's an erie chill in the air. Within an hour, the moon eclipse will be at full peak, meaning the ritual and sacrifice will be taking place; the sacrifice involving Beca.

It also means that it's your time to make your unannounced and very _unwelcomed_ entry into the forest before the ritual goes too far and it's too late.

You take a glance in the rear view mirror and notice Aubrey staring blankly out the window, biting her fingernails to the nubs in anticipation. The only thing keeping her nerves at bay (as well as the stress vomit) is Stacie comforting her with one of those warm, loving Stacie hugs Aubrey has shown to love so much as they are basically conjoined to one in the backseat of the Dodge.

She's terrified, which isn't a shock and you really don't blame her.

Hell, you _all_ are scared shitless about the outcomes.

But the courage and bravery held within every single one of you is what's going to help this plan in the long run and you will get Beca back into your arms.

It hurts knowing so many people, including yourself, are putting lives at risk-your heart cramps in _excruciating_ pain, but it's nothing compared to the thoughts of living a life without Beca by your side.

Instinctively, your grip tightens around the Dodge's steering wheel until your knuckles turn white and all your see is red. Your foot presses down against the accelerator, speeding up the car to a speed you normally wouldn't feel comfortable driving at while all others follow closely behind you.

Into the neighborhood, the abnormal silence filling the streets of Barden catches everyone's attention when you realize that the town is ghostly empty. It wouldn't be too much of a strange detail except for the fact that it's Halloween and should be tons of college kids roaming around. Girls should be dressed in skimpy costumes and the boys should gawking at them in their own pointless costumes they've brainstormed last minute because they're poor, lazy college students who really only care about is having sex and getting drunk.

But as you glance at the window, you find none of these things.

Stacie rolls down her side of the windows commenting about how she hasn't seen someone since they got off the exit and into campus.

"This has Gail written all over it," Aubrey concludes when her eyes examine the suspicious silence that has washed over Barden.

You decide not to make your own comment, but the silence is rather concerning as you drive deeper and deeper into town and have yet to run into a form of life.

You lead the pack of at least fifteen vehicles to a sudden stop just outside Barden's forest, tires screeching against the gravel and debris. As for your grand entrance into the forest, you're under strict orders from Lou to make it definitely _memorable_ , but smart. Since she's riding with Luke and Jade in his truck, you step out of the car, face instantly hit with the chill, autumn breeze and wait for further instructions to go about this rescue mission, not wanting to blow your cover and possibly get someone killed.

True to Aubrey's previous assumption about the lack of citizens and people roaming in and around the campus, Lou explains the use of a repelling spell that she assumes the Bellas and Gail have put over Barden to distract anyone from bringing attention the forest. This not only means that you guys and a few hundred witches are the only ones in the town right now, but also that there is literally _zero_ help if things get too out of hand.

"This bitch is fucking crazy," Luke mutters under his breath along with a shake to his head and you silently agree with a heavy sigh- _am I really about to do this right now? Go against a bitch who is, indeed, fucking crazy?!_

The answer is yes.

Yes you are.

Like the true leader she is, Lou develops a blueprint plan of how to enter the forest without bringing too much attention. All coordinates surrounding the witch nest will be covered by groups, surrounding the Bellas and possible slaves that are destined to make an appearance sometime tonight. The spellbook will then be burned to ashes under the blood moon in the heat of its peak hour, this reversing all used spells on the Bellas to eliminate that portion of Gail's army.

"We do not _shoot_ until we feel threatened," Lou warns sternly with a grit to her teeth and her milky white orbs glaring around the group. No one dares to speak, nor even breathe it seems like, but that could be due to the sudden fear that has washed over the group the moment Barden's forest was in plain sight.

Or maybe that's just _your_ fear that's increasing.

And how you can barely hear Lou speaking under the thunderous heartbeats pounding against your chest and filling your ears.

"But chances are, those weapons everyone is carrying is destined to be used sometime tonight, I _promise_ you that." Lou splits up the groups, telling them exactly where to go and to page over through these fancy ear devices everyone is wearing when they have made it ( _see? Mission Impossible type shit_ ).

When she makes it to Aubrey and Stacie to give them a location, you can't help but throw yourself over your best friend before she departs with Luke and Jade and throws herself to the wolves.

Without hesitation, you throw your arms around her neck, suffocating her with a hug so tight you could pop ribs, but right now you could care less. The thought of never being able to do this again after tonight is all you could bring yourself to think about and the thought makes you tremble in fear. She doesn't seem to mind, however, as her arms that wrap around your waist upon contact is just as hard, and maybe even harder and how she buries her face into the side of your head.

There's a few moments of silence without any interruptions as you and Aubrey share your goodbyes for the time being through a warm, comfortable contact. Breathing becomes synchronized and both of you seem to relax under each others hold, but the tightness never eases up.

"Thank you," you manage to squeak out, attempting to keep your emotions at bay, but still having to talk over that knot formed in your throat when you feel the tears trying to escape. It's not really clear what you're giving thanks for if it were anyone else, but between you two, she knows _exactly_ what you're grateful for.

Aubrey takes a deep inhale of your scent where her face is pushed up into the ponytail you have your hair in and squeezes you tighter. "Even though she could use an _entire_ new wardrobe, a few social tips and a _hell_ of a lot more manners, she's still a friend. A _really_...good friend."

It's hearing this that clenches at your heart and slips out a few tears to run off the bridge of your nose and into the space between Aubrey's neck and shoulder when you nuzzle your face into. "I love you, Bree." It's watery, barely audible and you find yourself getting choked up because of the formed lump of fear, but it's loud enough for Aubrey to hear and return the words back.

You feel Stacie rubbing at your back, sharing her empathy and you detach yourself from Aubrey to give the same gesture to her, as well. You soak into her tall embrace and feel her long limbs trap you in a protective hold. You haven't known Stacie for long, but already with the time spent together, it feels like you've known her your whole life and then some.

Losing any of them tonight is a thought you can't even imagine living through, which is why you only squeeze tighter, as of your physical contact is what will keep them both safe.

"Aubrey...Stacie, we need to go; it's almost peak hour."

You'd shoot lasers out of your eyes at Luke for breaking up the moment between your friends-your _family_ , if it wasn't for the fact that he's absolutely right. The moon is already beginning to go through the Earth's shadow; the whiteness of the moon is slowly beginning to disappear and is now forming into a crescent shape. It's only a matter of time until the moon is fully center of the Earth's shadow and the deep shade of orange darkens the sky.

Wiping off the wetness spread over your cheeks with the back of your hands, "please be safe," you order Aubrey and Stacie, hugging them both one more time and never wanting to let go.

Aubrey cocks her Connecticut shotgun A-10 American when she pulls away, throwing you a smug smirk at the same time Stacie pulls out her twin ninja swords from the harness on her back ( _they've came such a long way_ ). "You too, Firecracker." And shoots you a playful wink before back peddling away. "Go get your girl back."

They're gone faster than you would like, leaving you alone with Lou who you forgot was even behind you, which resulted you stumbling backwards into her frame when you trip over her foot. Luckily, she anticipated the collision and caught you before your feet slipped out beneath you and your face ate dirt and you're surprised she can sense anything.

You regain your balance, thanking Lou for catching you, _blindly_ , you might add and try to regain your composure. Make it look like you're actually capable to take down Gail and her witch army.

Crazy how you're about to kill a bunch of witches and you can't even stay upright on your feet for longer than thirty seconds.

"Thank you," you say breathlessly.

"Always, Chloe." There's deeper meaning in Lou's words, but you don't have enough time to dissect it before she starts explaining to you your part of the plan. "You'll be venturing up to higher ground-there's a hill located west that looks down into the witches' nest. It should be safe there."

You nod your head, taking in the instructions and loving the confirmation of the area being _safe_. That's always a good sign. "Go in quietly, correct?"

Lou nods her head as well. "We are trying to get through this without bringing attention ourselves, but I anticipate Gail and Kommissar know we are all coming tonight. No way would she release a handful of sacrifices without being sure of something. " She glances up at the thick, black smoke rising into the sky from the center of the forest; it looks to be a pretty large fire and smells like it too. _Oh God,_ you hope Beca is okay. "Wait until my command that Beca is in full view and _alive_ before you head from behind."

Great, so make yourself comfortable is what Lou is really trying to say. That's reassuring.

Lou senses your tension and searches for your hands before giving them a gentle squeeze, hands warm and surprisingly smooth. "All of my plans might sound _maniacal_ , but I've lived long enough to know how Gail operates. Hell, I'm as old as old can get, but I assure to you that tonight is her _last_ night living. I've destroyed her coven once before during the Salem trials and I sure as hell will do it again-for my daughter, for you, and for your sisters."

You chuckle at the age joke, muttering the soft compliment, "you don't look a day pass twenty five, Lou," that earns a true chuckle in return and your heart swells at how much your sisterhood means to the witch. To fight behind you for people she doesn't even know, but is still willing to save each and everyone of them.

It means more than words can explain.

Lou glances at your hands before taking them in her own, caging your hands with hers. The air shifts to a more serious note as the smile from her face begins to fall, but her eyes never meet yours. "No matter what happens, just know that you're the greatest thing that has ever happened to Beca and I'm so... _so_ grateful that she has found someone as wonderful as you, Dear. Just...be there for each other, through thick and thin. Promise me that?"

It's a lot to take in, especially since it feels like this is Lou's way of saying goodbye before the night has even started. You want to speak up about it-that good can still and _will_ come from this night, but you're too stunned to speak. Too stunned to imagine that the strongest leaders even have their doubts.

But you promise her eventually; you'd do whatever it took to keep Beca safe regardless if you had witch powers, expert shooting techniques and _killer_ good looks.

You also know how serious both Lou and Beca take their promises, which I why you tell her without a hitch.

Lou's hands travel up your arms and her fingers fix the collar of Beca's leather jacket you're wearing; you brought it to Buckhead with you before leaving from the cabin. Something about the material, the history the jacket has been through and the heavenly smell of Beca's scent gave it a sense of security, comfort and strength.

God knows you need it every bit of all three.

And wearing it makes you feel invincible, like a bunch of witches with crazy delusions to take over the world is _nothing_ you can't handle.

"I'm sure you look damn good in leather, especially Beca's leather, which she took a bizarre amount of time treasuring." Lou's lips twitch upwards as she scans the jacket with her touch instead of her eyes, but something in that milky white stare makes you feel like she can see right through you. "And I bet you look even better in, of course, _black_."

"I was never fond of the color-though it did make me look very, _very_ slim," you joke with a soft chuckle that is reciprocated by Lou. "But before I met Beca and experienced this... _journey_ with her, I considered myself a bright, colorful person. It wasn't till I met Beca that I found true light. Plus, I look _damn_ good in black-it might even be my favorite color now."

 _Okay, don't you all go hassling me that black isn't a color-I get it! It's a shade! But...it's…ugh! Just go with it, dammit!_

Lou gives an honest to God true laugh and it washes away any nerves you had within your body and almost makes it feel like you and her are just chatting in the woods, engaging in normal bonding between the mom of her girlfriend's and being the girlfriend of said...girlfriend?

 _Did that make sense?_

One glance up at the moon and noticing that crescent shape is almost covered by a shadow, Lou gives you one last smile before pulling you into a tight hug. You hug her back just as tight; something about a hug from Beca's mother always seems to ease you down and makes you feel on top of the world at the same time. Then, there's something wrapping around your neck and clipping underneath your ponytail to fasten shut and you feel something inside you shift.

And when you pull away, you're greeted with that same symbol either worn or tattooed by all the other witch hunters dangling off your neck, delicately, and notice that Lou's neck is now bare. Immediately, your hands shoot to your neck and clutch at the black, marble stone trapped in the middle of two crescent moons, eyes welding with tears once again.

You stammer out a series of sounds, desperately trying to get out that you can't take something that holds this much significance, so much power and history. Perhaps, it would've been different if it came from someone else in the witch hunting organization and not the _actual_ leader, but it's not. The feeling of warmth that Lou trusts you enough to wear something like this, however, is a feeling beyond you.

And the feeling of being indestructible now that you're wearing something so special gives you a whole new sense of brazenness.

Like you have more than courage and bravery as superpowers.

"You're special, Chloe," Lou says, cutting you off from making an even bigger fool out of yourself when you're unable to get anything out because you're flooded with too many emotions. "And you're strong, courageous and confident-a _true_ leader. Beca would be so very proud of you. I know I am."

Wanting to cry is a huge mood right now, but you suck it in and take deep breaths to keep your emotions in check. Impressing someone like Lou is hands down the greatest accomplishment you could ever receive and knowing you've made her proud is unexplainable.

Eyes filled with unshed tears, you glance down at the moon shape symbol, feel a sense of pride when you stare at the certain glimmer coating the black stone as you're unable to contain the watery smile to spread across your face. "It's an honor." And you grip at both necklaces; the moons and your Bellas 'B' you're wearing, feeling stronger than you've ever felt before.

"Oh stop." Lou waves this off with a smile of her own and uses her fingers to trace down along the length of the necklace. "The honors mine." She takes a few steps back allowing you time to get use to the newly added weight now on your neck- _holy shit this can't be happening._ "Now, let's go save my daughter before she's _fried_ witch. Remember the plan?"


	20. Chapter 20

**Now where were we...**

 **(I DO NOT OWN PITCH PERFECT NOR THE SONGS MENTIONED)**

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty: Trick-Or-Treat (Part 2)**

Being alone isn't as comforting as you thought it would be-which is just idiotic because, _hello_ , anyone alone in a scary movie is destined to be slaughtered to death.

Like, the number one rule is to not split up in a horror film, but here you are.

 **Alone**.

Camped out above a witch nest.

 _Come on!_

But you eventually make it up the hill to the exact spot Lou said to take cover and because the nest is the centered in the forest like a bowl, you have a perfect view of everything. At the top, you immediately get slapped in the senses by smoke coming from the large fire located center of all your sisters standing in a perfect circle, guarding something held within the middle that you're trying to get a better look at.

They're wearing those _terrifying_ black cloaks again with those pointy black hats you were greeted with when you were captured the first time by Gail and still haunts your dreams, _literally_. It's not settling your nerves, that's for sure, especially since all _**two hundred**_ of them look like dark members of the klu klux klan.

And there's those damn creepy voodoo doll looking things surrounding the nest and dangling off the trees to make it _ten_ times scarier.

 _Breathe, Beale. Breathe._

As you're scanning the perimeter of the forest, trying to ignore the fact that at any second you can be spotted by the massive army of Bellas- _your_ _sisters_ , frozen like statues and about to do something they can't control, a certain someone tied up against a stake catches your eye.

And all the air from your lungs get sucked right from your body when you realize who it is.

"Oh my god," you cup a hand over your mouth to muffle most of your words that you were unable to keep in and eyes fill with tears once again. "Beca," you mumble into your palm as you lock onto that familiar head of brown and that mesmerizing pale skin you've come to miss so much.

From what it looks like, she's alive, but is tied up to a large stake in the middle of the nest, surrounded by all your sisters, as well as a bunch of wood near her feet. Unlike her normal outfits, she's dressed in a **horrid** , all white gown that reminds you of something your grandma would be caught wearing-she still looks hot though.

Of course, she has had better days by the sag in her head, the paleness, and the weakness you can feel radiating off her body, even from the distance, but that doesn't matter.

What does matter is that she's alive.

And you couldn't be more elated.

Since you're at a higher ground, you click onto the earpiece you have in your ear to let the rest of the group know you've spotted Beca near the middle of the circle and to give them her location. Once copied by the others, you destroy the ear piece as instructed into the ground before shattering it to pieces with the black combat boots you have on.

Using a black bandana, you tie it around your head before heading back down the hill into the heat of the forest, creating a normal distraction by snapping every branch possible the closer you get to the scene and await for the plan to take place.

Now you may think this is a death wish as you're purposely trying to get caught by a bunch of witches in the middle of a practicing a gigantic satanic ritual, but just wait. You had the same thoughts, but the best plans are always a little skeptical.

For the meantime, you stare at Beca from afar when you walk; the Bellas are too far away to hear anything that they're chanting, but you know for a fact that most of it isn't in English and is the start of the ritual when you take a look at the moon and notice the color starting to shift orange. Beca, on the other hand, looks beautiful despite her being very weak, tied up and about to be sacrificed, so you spend the time admiring her, destined to get her back into your arms.

"Foolish girl."

As planned, you hear a familiar voice appear from behind before your arms are being locked behind your back by a rope and you're being dragged aggressively out from the shadows and dropped into the center of the seance. Now in the heat of it all, _literally_ , your panic rises unintentionally. The moment you hit the ground with a loud grunt, Beca weakly lifts her head and her eyes, sad, fragile and have lost their shimmer, nearly triple in size when she realizes it's you.

Without anyone noticing, you sneak a wink at her despite the sharp, sudden pain in your ribs- _Jesus Christ, Kommissar. Could you be a little bit more gentle?-_ and she relaxes as best as she can. You think you even catch a tiny twitch of her signature smirk wanting to make an appearance that you love so much, but she is far too weak to give you the full thing and there's worry still tinting her features.

However, it brings peace knowing that this girl in front of you is Beca.

This time **your** Beca and not that hormonal, mood swings galore Beca that was poisoned against her will.

"You are like a leech, I must admit."

You have no idea where the voice is coming from, but you know by the instant chill that shoots down your spine that the voice belongs to Gail. With your arms tied behind your back, you attempt to scan around the circle at your sisters, trying to spot out the voice, but they all are wearing those masks making it impossible to tell who is who.

"Exactly like what your... _girlfriend_ is about to be covered in while you watch her hopelessly be drained until she's nothing but white as a ghost and has skin like a raisin."

 _Alright, was that comparison necessary?_

True to her word, leeches in a group of about ten emerge from the ground surrounding Beca and trail up Beca's legs that isn't covered by that horrid white gown. They're large in size, which makes you think that they're far different from the normal, _real world_ leeches-voodoo, you think-so that means you don't have a lot of time once they start sucking at Beca's blood.

And when you catch the wince in Beca's facial features as she stands helplessly while her blood is being drained, it only fuels your fire to get her out of here and somewhere safe.

"How'd you like the party, my dear?"

"What?" you grunt out in confusion and finally you spot someone dressed in black like the rest, except she's wearing by far the _creepiest_ mask you've ever seen in the shape of a goat's head with massive horns on top. Putting two and two together, you know that it's Gail, but you try to play dumb. "What par-"

Gail chuckles darkly before you can even finish your question and you have a really bad feeling about what she's going to say. "Now how do you think we were able to catch your _prized_ possession?" she asks humorously and slowly makes her way closer to you. "Or how I found out our spell book was _stolen_." The last part is a chilling growl; a growl that sounded far from human and if you weren't tied up and laying stomach down on the ground, you would've flinched by the bark.

But you're stuck in to ground like it has suddenly turned to wet cement and even though you'd want nothing more than to stay _far_ away from this woman who is even more insane tonight than she has been in the past, you're stuck.

"You mean this spell book?!" Another voice enters the circle full of rage and hatred and you know the plan has started when you recognize the voice. Gail looks up towards the unannounced guest, growling monstrous at the intruder and getting into a defensive stance. " _Bitch_."

You wiggle yourself around despite being tied and catch Jade holding a thick, brown book up in the air before using her telekinesis to toss it into the fire to watch it burn to ash, just as planned. Without an army, Gail has nothing guarding her from death, yet even though the spell book has disintegrated to black ash rising up from the fire, the Bellas still stand cold around you, frozen in place wearing those cult like gowns and not breaking their stare off you.

Like _nothing_ has changed.

And they _still_ want to rip you both to shreds.

Which, as you can take an easy guess, is **not** part of the plan.

"Jade West. I should've known you be part of this foolish plan to defeat me." Gail, again chuckles humorously with a sinister grin you could imagine glowing on her face under the mask.

Jade looks just as confused as you are about the situation, maybe even a little worried now that all the Bellas have their gaze burning on her and the realization that the plan has suddenly hit a major bump in the road has hit full blast.

Gail's body relaxes from her defensive stance. "Still as... _ill-advised_ as ever, I see. I could've sworn I taught you well."

" _Fuck you_!" Jade spits out angrily and gets in her own defensive stance before whipping out her gun, but barely has it in her possession long enough until it goes flying deep into forest and one of the grenades goes off, exploding from the distance. Witnessing this, you start to panic.

A lot.

And so does Jade.

 _Shit, shit, shit! This is not how we planned everything!_

"C-Chloe," it's Beca talking; you barely catch it and you snap your neck around so fast to hear what she has to say, hoping that it's something good. " _De_... _coy_." Anything Beca is trying to say is barely heard do to her being so sick and weak, but by the sudden fear that washes over her face, you understand that whatever she is trying to say is _bad_ news, regardless.

You wiggle back around to pass on Beca's warning, but it's already too late when you notice Jade frozen in place, evident tears running down her cheeks and she's unable to move while Gail is whispering something into her ear. Her bottom lip is trembling, and her face is bleach white and you've _never_ seen the girl look so scared a day since you've met her.

Hell, you didn't even think the emotion was possible to emerge in a girl like her.

"Jade!" you scream to snap her out of whatever trance Gail has her under, but you notice she's not able to move away. "Jade! **Jade** , listen to me!" You know by this point it's a long stretch, but you'd try anything to mute out Gail in hopes that Jade isn't taken under her spell.

But it's too late.

Paralyzed, just like the rest of the Bellas, Jade's pupils expand across the entire eye, making none of the whites visible. It's a quick transformation, but by the look of death hidden within those black, glossy, marble like orbs, you know the Jade from before is long gone.

Gail has her now.

" _Ahh_ , a true black witch never forgets who she really is," Gail mumbles contently as she pulls away from Jade and admires her work. "And yes to what Beca was _attempting_ to say-poor girl is too sick to even talk." Gail chuckles and the anger starts to fill your veins once again at the mention of your girlfriend. "Long story short, my lovely sister created a fake of our spell book when we sent our beloved Emily down to Buckhead to get an insight about all the ruckus we've been hearing about."

You sigh in defeat- _dammit, Emily, hears everything and is literally everywhere. Why is she my favorite again?_

"A _beard_ , as all you cool American kids say," Kommissar chimes in; she's wearing a goat mask, as well, but her's isn't nearly as terrifying as Gail's. "She overheard some witch hunters chatting about some _master_ plan to destroy a ritual going on the night of the blood moon and we knew...we couldn't let that happen."

"So we had our own tricks up our sleeves, captured Beca, successfully, thanks to an old friend, managed to get you all down here for a holiday _bloodbath_ and honestly, I've never been more impressed with myself." Gail beckons over one of the Bellas with a finger who is holding another spell book-the real spell book, _apparently,_ that looks identical to the last before ordering her to hand it over. "The fake spellbook was an old history book from the library, you fools, but we casted a lock spell to make it _impossible_ to open up."

Slowly, she walks over to where you're laying before crouching down to your level. As she gets closer and the mask is closer to the glow from the fire, you notice the certain glossy, shimmer to the eyes connected to the mask, and then get a whiff of the _foul_ smell that you assume is from the head and the droplets of blood dangling off the neck region. It's then you realize that, _hell no this bitch is crazy_ when you're up close to the 'mask' that you realize it's the head of a real life goat.

She takes a whiff for herself close to you before abruptly pulling away and you can imagine the look of disgust on her face even under the mask of the goat. "You smelled better when you were pure," she admits coldly and uses her fingers to twirl at your side bangs that didn't make it into your ponytail. You try to shift away, the touches more than unwanted, but the movements are useless. "Now, you smell just as _sinful_ as the rest of us," her words are venomous and her black claws for nails feel like fire when the scrape against your cheek bones. "Still have hair and eyes to die for, thankful, which is why I'm going to suck your body dry and take your soul and beauty, so you at least have that to look forward to."

You twist your neck to look back at Beca and notice the streams of blood starting to trail down her legs and arms. The leeches have already began to drain her and because she is already very weak from whatever poison Gail put into her system, you know there isn't much time. With a Hell of a lot of struggle, you manage to flip over to your back, about to move to your feet until you're stopped by a hand on your chest.

"What is this?" Gail steals your attention away with her curiosity, face now visible under the _horrid_ mask after discarding the thing onto the ground and has her focused glued down to your neck.

You wince at the odor radiating off the goat head from the closeness between you and the witch, trying to find whatever fresh air you can breathe before the smell, _alone_ , kills you.

Her fingers trace lightly along your collarbone until she lifts up the necklace. Under the silence except for the sounds of embers from the flames crackling, you hear the sudden increase of Gail's breathing pick up as she studies the piece of jewelry until she screeches in pain as if the necklace is on fire and she's been burnt. There's smoke rising from her hand that was once holding onto the necklace and the smell of flesh hits your senses that you desperately try to block out.

"This _can't_ be!" she growls and scrambles away so that you could crane your neck up and find out what's going on. "She was _**dead**_!" For the first time, you hear fear in Gail's tone and hidden in her eyes that are now all _witched_ out, which is not only reviving, but good news on your part. "I saw her-I _killed_ her!"

Feeling all your courage and strength fill your body once again when seeing Gail's terror come to life and are able to spit out, "guess again." You use a special move taught by Beca to spin clockwise with one leg out that knocks Gail off her feet before her back slams against the ground aggressively, and the spellbook goes flying over to where Beca is tied up, landing near the spears. "Welcome to the fucking jungle, _bitch_!"

On cue, the witch hunters appear from the shadows of the forest with guns of all types locked and loaded, pointed at not only the Bellas, but at a extremely _furious_ Gail who is seconds away from destroying everything and everyone in the vicinity. Throwing back on the goat's head, she emits a piercing command.

" _ **Impetus**_!"

You don't know what Latin _bullshit_ Gail just screamed out and how all the Bellas have seemed to snap out of whatever trance they were locked in, but by the looks of it, and how you're now the center of attention under a couple _hundred_ brainwashed witches, you assume it's not good.

And when you see Jade charging at you like a rabid bull and you're wearing a bright _red_ jumpsuit, you know it's really, _really_ not good.

The sounds of gunshots fill the forest; some of the charging Bellas get taken down from the serum and you hear Luke yell over the gunshots and screams to save Beca-which, yeah, _duh_ , but you seem to be caught in a really tough pickle right now to do that.

"Shit!" You're pretty much stuck while being tied up, but you'll break every bone in your body wiggling around in the dirt before Gail gets her hands on that spellbook. Thankfully, the hunters are keeping Jade busy from ripping you to shreds, giving you the extra time to break free.

So you wiggle and wiggle, feeling the burns from the first time being tied up reappearing as your flesh is being ripped. Suddenly, you feel the rope keeping your hands tied together beginning to get hot around your wrists. Like, really _fucking_ hot until the hemp from the rope is being burned away and your hands are finally free. You don't know how it happened, but there's to much going on to dwell on it and not just be glad it _did_ happen.

"Chloe, duck!"

You do as your told and see Aubrey making an entrance into the forest before shooting off her shotgun towards whoever is coming at you. All the pellets from the shell hit a group of Bellas charging at you from behind, filling them with that potion Beca made that makes them convulse into the ground and scream in pain into the air until they're fading out of consciousness.

And you try not to think about how one of them sounds a lot like Emily, which you really hope it isn't.

Stealing your attention from the screams, Luke calls your name from another corner of the forest and you barely have enough time to catch the gun flying at you before it hits you in the face.

Without any warning as you're trying to situate your weapon, you're hit so hard from the front that you, as well as your _lungs_ are knocked into another dimension. Your back hits the ground _hard_ , so hard you got the wind knocked out of you and the possibility that you just broke a rib is high, but that's the least of your worry when Jade climbs on top of you and wraps her hands around the base of your throat, cutting off your windpipe.

Your hands claw around her wrists, trying to loosen the grip she has around your throat, but it's no use. You then try to fight back, throwing in a few punches, but she uses her telekinesis to glue your hands to the ground on either side of your head, leaving you helpless and seconds away from being strangled by your friend who is now under possession of Gail. Even the reverse potion wont have any effect on Jade, which limits the options on how to stop her.

"Jade!" Luke tries to scream from where he's standing at the same time he's shooting at the army of Bellas, but the more he yells, the tighter her grip around your throat gets and the more you feel like your eyes are going to pop from your skull. She even starts to bang your head against the gravel and now you're threatening being choked to death _and_ given a concussion. " _Jade_ , snap the fuck out of it!" Luke is _worried_ , you can tell by his voice.

It's no use though; Jade's eyes are as black as Hell, shes clenching her teeth so hard there blood oozing from her mouth and you know whoever is controlling her right now has a strong hold on her actions. You try to pry away her hands away to get some air, already starting to feel light headed and fading in and out of consciousness, but she's too strong. It's not until a sudden force throws her back into the chaos happening around the forest when you're allowed some fresh air to breathe.

You gasp out for air and clutch at your neck, gaining all your oxygen back. There's so much going around you; the sounds of bullets going off, screeches and cackles coming from all the witches that you have no idea where anything is coming from. You do, however, notice Beca, who looks like, for lack of a better word, complete _shit_ , still tied up while being drained and the spellbook sitting at her feet near the wood.

Scrambling up to your feet while trying to regain your strength, you sprint to Beca and fall to your knees, panicking on how to get the leeches off her skin. _Fire_ , you think to yourself and sprint back to the pit to pick up a branch and lighting the tip. On the way there, you have to shoot at more Bellas than you'd like, but because they're dress in outfits that makes them all look the same, it doesn't affect you too much.

Plus, it's _exhilarating_.

And you need to save your girlfriend.

You're about to head back to Beca with the fire on the stick, but seem to run into a little... _detour_ when you're thrown to the ground and collapse to your knees with no possible way of getting up. It feels like something is holding you down, like a force or something, but then it clicks. You search through the witches and witch hunters for Jade and see her in the distance, stare cold and glued right on you.

"Fan _fucking_ tastic," you grumble in annoyance- _Jade and her stupid witchy powers._

You fight your hardest against her hold but there's no budging when she's using telekinesis. You also feel your body being restricted off, like your insides and ribcage are collapsing to the pit of your stomach and to say it was excruciatingly painful would be an understatement. Beca nor Lou ever mentioned the ability to use telekinesis within a human form and now you're finding out the hard way.

 _Fantastic_.

You scream in pain, feeling like your all your insides are fisting together and every organ is about ready to burst.

Out of nowhere, Stacie twirls in the air at the same time she throws a blade from the other side of the forest into Jade's right thigh and from behind, Aubrey takes the barrel of her shotgun and jams it into the middle of Jade's nose when she stumbles away in pain. Once she's knocked out cold, the hold on your body releases and, again, you catch your breath and feel our chest re-contracting before grabbing the fire and sprinting back to Beca.

You move the large logs and wood surrounding Beca, each piece reeling of gasoline that you assume was to be lit to burn Beca. Carefully, you raise the flame to each leech that has grown exceptional in size after being filled with Beca's blood and like you thought, they slowly flake off her skin, leaving a stream of blood and teeth marks in visible sight.

You also use the buffalo hunter pocket knife shoved on the inside of your boot to cut the ropes off Beca's wrists and legs, allowing her to fall weakly from the stake into the dirt. Making sure you toss the fire away from the rest of the wood drenched in gasoline to avoid _another_ large fire, you notice Beca.

Scrambling around the stake to check her current condition, "Baby," you say with dripping worry once all the leeches are burnt off her skin and you examine her wounds that look like they need _extreme_ medical attention. "Oh my God, baby, are you okay?!"

There's a weak, tired chuckle from below where Beca lays in your lap and you are relieved (and kind of confused) to see her smiling up at you. "I am...now," she is able to mumble out, giving you a small, _very_ _small_ smile in return. "Did you just...quote...Bon Jovi?"

You can't help the tears that escape when being so close to Beca after being apart for so long, but still manage to give her a watery smile back in return. Leaning your forehead down against Beca's and cradling her face between your hands to make up for her struggles to keep her head up, "you bet your ass I did." It wasn't the intention, but it worked out in your favor if you were rewarded by a _true_ smile from Beca.

"God, I love you so fucking much," Beca breathes out, eyes gradually closing shut before opening up again and you can't stop the tears from rolling off the bridge of your nose and onto her face. "Thank you for saving my life."

You shush Beca, shaking your head and combing a few of Beca's hairs behind her ear before resting your palm on her cheeks. "You've saved me in more ways than one, so this doesn't make up for half of what you've done for me."

" _ **Awh that's sweet."**_

You pull away from Beca to turn to the sinister voice, then hastily jump back when you realize that every single person around the forest has gone frozen, now staring directly at you and Beca like lions and the two of you were raw meat. Gail is standing there, spellbook held firmly in her grasp with an army of Bellas ready to attack guarding from behind her. Her voice is dark, eerie and sounds non human again, almost _demon-ish_ , if that's even a word, but regardless, it's fucking scary.

" _ **Too bad the blood moon is in full peak and I have enough of Beca's blood to destroy this plague invested world filled with you rotten mortels."**_

All of the witch hunters appear behind you and Beca, guns aimed and ready to shoot from the witches on the other side of the forest, but hold off on shooting. After gently rearranging Beca on the ground from your lap, you ready your gun with a full clip, as well, and step in front on Beca like a shield, destined to protect her with every inch you got, even if your life is at sake and by the looks of it, the odds don't look too much in your favor.

On command from Luke who is visibly struggling to keep his strength now that Jade is front and center of the Bellas-though it's not the caring, badass girl you've be fortunate to meet-he orders for the hunters to shoot in unison, all aimed at the one person in charge. Silver bullets go off under the orange glow from the fire and moon; you take your fair share of shots, wanting nothing more than this _evil bitch_ to rot in Hell.

But that doesn't happen.

Hell, none of the bullets even _touch_ her as all of them-at least a hundred- are seen floating in front of the witches, like she and the Bellas are guarded by some kind of safety dome.

"Oh...my...God," Levon is the one who emits this and the fear laced in her tone is the least bit reassuring now that Gail, apparently, can stop anything that comes at her.

Gail outstretches her arms from her sides, glancing up into the blood moon before chanting, " _ **Oh my mighty Lord, tonight...I shall give you a blood bath! Anything for you, my mighty king!"**_ And who she is talking to, exactly, is almost as scary as the floating bullets that at any second could be redirected at you.

You also notice the leeches somehow return back to life, still filled with blood and slithering their way over to the fire pit in the middle of the forest that is now triple its initial size. Whatever is happening right now-and you mostly blame the peak of the blood moon- doesn't seem good.

Her words have no affect on your deaf ears, not when Beca's about to be barbecued and her blood is about to complete the ritual and that's all you can focus on right now.

" _ **Immortalitatis, venit ad me. Immortalitatis, te voco, ad me. Fac me immortalem, per immortalem verum peto a te. Immortalitatis, intrabit in me et ego in te peto, sic fiat sempe!"**_

All the Bellas, including Kommissar and even Jade chant this spell in unison, but because of the Latin, you're unable to understand what they're saying- _who_ they're saying it to. What you do understand is that whoever it is listening to this is making the fire grow larger and the moon becomes a darker shade of orange, almost a maroon color like actual blood, and that there _may_ be one more thing that is scarier than Gail herself.

"Take cover!" Luke screams to the other hunters as _most_ of them-not all- find safety behind the trees as the bullets get redirected back at them at a abnormally fast speed.

Luckily, none hit you-which is weird, like you were shielded somehow, but you're thankful regardless- and you wince when you watch some of the hunters go down after being shot. When you see that Aubrey and Stacie are okay and were able to take cover behind a tree, you relax. There's a lot of you guys, so it only puts a small dent into the group, but it still hurts to know that some of your team didn't make it.

Using your peripherals, you notice the leeches and where they're headed. Out of options and basing your actions off of reflex when you see that Gail and the rest are chanting some spell into the air, not paying attention, you shoot at the leeches to stop them from slithering towards the fire. Most of the bullets hit the ground; your shot isn't as good as Beca's, but the ones that do hit the bugs causes them to burst into a thick, dark maroon liquid.

The ones you don't shoot, Stacie catches for you, throwing smaller blades into the leeches' backs from where she is standing next to Aubrey, who is kneeling down near a very weak Beca.

"Listen...to my...mother," Beca gasps out quietly before her head falls into her chest and you're only able to worry for a split second that she is in trouble until a voice from inside your head is heard.

" _The rock_ ," the voice is faint and barely audible under everything go on and the sudden sound of static filling your thoughts. There's a fairly large rock next to the stake Beca's next to, but you have absolutely no idea what to do with it. " _F..fi..fire_." You have to focused hard on listening to the voice cutting in and out, but Beca lifts her head again, looking as if she is using all the strength left in her body for God knows what to gesture over towards the rock.

Nodding your head, you pick up the rock and sprint over to the fire, dropping the stone into the pit. What you're unprepared for in the flames to erupt into a pure black flame and all the Bellas in the forest simultaneously emit the same sort of _banshee_ screech that collapses you to your knees when you feel like your eardrums are shredded apart.

"What's happening?!" Stacie yells to Aubrey, the both of them clutching their ears to block out the noise, but doesn't receive an answer back.

No one really knows what's going on, but whatever is happening is something that Gail didn't intend on taking place tonight.

" _ **No**_ ," Gail, mutters in disbelief and while you clutch at your ears to stop the pain from all the screeching you notice her holding the same rock you could've sworn you just tossed into the fire pit moments ago. " _ **THIS CAN'T BE**_ _!_ " She shoots a glare that will forever haunt your nightmares at Beca, " _ **YOU TRAITOR! AGAINST YOUR OWN COVEN-YOU'RE JUST LIKE YOUR ROTTEN MOTHER!"**_

"I-It's...not my... **fucking** coven," her voice, even though it is weak, spits this out, the blood pooling in her mouth punctuates each word.

Looking back at Beca and noticing that she is drained completely from exhaustion and now has a trail of blood running out of both nostrils, you realize it's been her this entire time. _Saving_ you from Jade, burning the rope from around your wrists and using her powers to manipulate reality to make it seem like Gail had captured the spellbook when really it was you all along.

Gail and Kommissar scream into the night's air, falling to their knees and revealing their faces when they remove those goat heads, now in their true witch form. Like Lou said, the both are at their weakest with no souls left to give them that _beautiful_ , majestic glow, which basically means they look like they have _definitely_ lived for a hundred plus years and then some.

Basically, they resemble walking corpses.

Simultaneously, all the cloaked Bellas fall flaccid into the ground without a single movement, silencing the forest. All but Jade, who stands enraged alongside Gail and Kommissar, staring directly at you like she'd rip your throat out in nanoseconds if given the chance. The stone necklaces on Gail and Kommissar's neck glow from black to a bright red, almost like an alarm going off inside a building when something extremely awful is about to happen.

" _ **Slaves**_!" Gail snarls out a roar that's loud enough to shake the whole forest. Her eyes are bloodshot red before turning fully black like Jade's and her skin undergoes the transformation into her evil witch form that is truly skin crawling _terrifying_. " _ **I summon you**_!"

 _Oh no._

 _That doesn't sound good._

Especially when the sounds of monstrous cackles surrounding from outside the forest can be heard getting closer, and closer, and _closer_ , until hunters from behind wail out in pain with their own screams filling the forest, as well as multiple gun shots. Then, a massive wind storm cages you guys in the forest, making the visibility become an issue with all the flying debris.

" _ **Kill them all!"**_

You quickly turn around, gun aimed at _whatever_ you may find, but witch slaves flood into the forest faster than you can even process shooting your gun. They're even more horrifying than the last time you encountered them and somehow have gotten stronger, faster and smarter, which is not good. You catch Stacie and Aubrey fighting off the slaves while Gail cackles humorously to herself like the real monster she is and you shoot at what you can see as help, but the storm is ridiculously strong.

Remembering Beca, who is brittle and weak laying on the ground, you shoot at whatever slave that charges you and help shoot off the witches that have witch hunters trapped underneath. Realizing that Beca shouldn't be down here when there's an actual _war_ going on and you need her safe, you order that you need to get her on top of the hill where you were at before, but this time further into the woods where she can't be found.

"No...I need...to help."

"Beca, you can barely breathe right now let alone fight off a bunch of slaves!" you try to reason gently, but there's so much going on, you keep getting hit by flying debris and it's only a matter of time before one of you two-or both- could be killed.

So even though she's strong enough to hold her own and could hands down be a _great_ asset to the team, you lift her off the ground with one arm and use the other for protection to shoot at any slaves in your way before maneuvering through the darkened forest to safety.

She's mostly dead weight as you carry her against your side, but thankfully she's tiny and barely weighs anything. When you see that the slave's are migrating more towards the other hunters, you switch positions on how to carry Beca, swiping you arm under her knees and against her back and rotate the gun so it's now strapped to your back.

"What happened back there, Beca?" You ask as you carry her bridal style, not even breaking a sweat from the spiked adrenaline and sudden strength as you run her to safety. "How could I hear your mom?! It sounded like she was in my head telling me what to do!"

"It's one of her powers she picked up when she practiced witchcraft. She's been studying telepathy for years, even when I was a little girl. With enough training, she can even work her concilium into telepathy, which would then make her be able to control someone without having to glamour them by a stare."

Impressed would be an understatement. Is there anything this woman _can't_ do?

"She's...the _strongest_ person I know," Beca voice is low and quiet and you have a hard time hearing her from the running and panting you're doing, but you catch it. You also completely agree; the woman is _legendary_ and a force to be reckoned with. "She'll fix this," it's more said to herself rather than you, but you listen and believe that statement regardless, hear the truth behind the words and continue carrying her to a safe area.

At the top, Aubrey and Stacie are there; you are relieved to see them both until you notice the blood oozing out of the top of Aubrey's left thigh and her clutching onto the limb for dear life. Stacie, who is covered in Aubrey's blood, is frantically trying to figure out what to do, ripping at any piece of clothing she can to make to stop the bleeding and lands on her being sufficient enough.

"What happened?!" you ask worried when you set Beca down into the grass and land yourself in the spot next to your best friend. At first glance, the injury isn't as bad as you thought, but definitely is bad enough to hinder her walking anywhere.

The last thing she needs to do is apply stress to her leg and lose more blood than she already has.

"One of those... _fuckers_ bit me!" Aubrey spits and hisses at the same time when Stacie rips part of her shirt to wrap her leg to stop the bleeding. "It came out of nowhere and took me blindsighted. Stacie was able to knock the damn thing off and carry me up here," she explains and hisses through the pain at the same time. "There's not a lot of them, but they're strong."

"I'm going to _kill_ that bitch who did this to you," Stacie hisses through gritted teeth, trying to not let her emotions show, but the way she's fighting back the tears is evident in the tremble on her bottom lip and how she's frantically trying to cut anywhere on her shirt.

"I need you both to stay up here and watch Beca," you tell Stacie instead and she looks insulted, as if you just slapped her across the face. "Aubrey's injured, you're not in the right mindset and I need you all _safe_!" You don't mean to yell your reasoning, but you do. You just can't have someone you love get hurt, _again_ , because next time it might just be worse.

By the bark in your tone, Stacie controls her frantic movements and begins to relax when the piece of her shirt she ripped off is tied just above Aubrey's injury. She stares blankly at you for a moment, but eventually obliges to your request and tosses her blades to the side.

"I'm not going to turn into a one of them, am I?" Aubrey asks with full seriousness, the pain in her leg starting to settle now that it is wrapped and she searches the ground for Stacie's hand like it's life or death. She's still panting like crazy from the pain and adrenaline coursing through her, but she looks in far better shape.

"Did you grab the antidote?" Beca asks when she hears Aubrey's concern, startling everyone by her input.

You're confused- _everyone_ is confused, especially Aubrey who glares at Stacie, muttering a sharp, ' _what fucking antidote?_ ' and you can see her starting to panic by the abrupt color change to her face. When Beca doesn't receive a response that this _so-called_ antidote was picked up (but an important piece no one seemed to mention earlier) her eyes stretch wide and she's resembling the same amount of panic as Aubrey.

Which is then only shared by the rest of the group.

Beca asks for more detail about the injury. "Where did you get bit?" Aubrey points to her upper, inner thigh where most the blood is coming from, waiting for any good news, but all she gets is a heavy sigh from a frowning Beca that's the least bit reassuring. "Fuck," she mutters under her breath and now she is really freaking everyone the _fuck_ out; Stacie looks like she might slice Beca up if she doesn't explain what is happening to her girlfriend and Aubrey looks like she might vomit.

"What's going on, Beca!?" Aubrey screeches her demand, her sanity now long gone when she slams her fists on the ground.

"Shit, Aubrey. I'm sorry but you only have minutes- _seconds,_ possibly _,_ to even to live." At first, it takes the air out of everybody, you included, but then you catch a twitch at the corner of Beca's lips and you never wanted to strangle the girl more than you do now.

Catching Beca's sly, evil smirk, Stacie seems to be relieved, but though a little irritated by the timing of Beca's jokes and Aubrey, if she wasn't being held back by her injured leg and girlfriend, would've already chopped off Beca's head by the red glow on her face and in her eyes.

"They aren't _zombies_ , Posen," Beca speaks up through a tired chuckle until she groans in pain from it and you never thought you'd miss your girlfriend and best friend's bickering as much as did. "You'll be fine."

"And my leg, _Beca_?"

"Nothing that is worth amputation, but I'm sure you'll have some pretty gnarly scars."

Aubrey's eyes bulge at the mention of scars and at any other situation, you'd find it humorous at how much Aubrey treats her body like a temple.

"Or something... _worse_ ," Beca dangles evilly, but a small smirk/grimace on her face when Aubrey's face begins to pale.

" _Oh..my...God_!"

The only thing you can do is chuckle at the bickering and try to pull Beca's attention away from Aubrey before she uses her good leg and kicks Beca upside the head. It happens to work when you're greeted with those cloudy blues that are tinted with exhaustion and surrounded by red, but nonetheless look as mesmerizing as ever.

"I understand that sarcasm is your thing, as well as giving Aubrey an _aneurysm_ any chance you get and I want to accept and love all parts of you, but can you not make jokes about my best friend turning into one of those nasty creatures?" you plea through your own smile and are greeted by that smug smirk of Beca's, but she nods her head, obeying.

"Sorry, couldn't help it."

And you don't admit it out loud, but you're so relieved to see Beca's sense of humor back to being normal and at any other situation, you'd kiss her _senseless_.

You two exchange a stare, getting familiarized with each others faces after the time spent apart.

"I've missed you...so much," Beca is the first to speak, voice shaky, but sincere.

You lower your head, about to get really sentimental despite the obvious commotion happening in the heart of the forest. "When you left, I felt like somebody cut off my arms and legs," you admit quietly and can feel nothing but Beca's attention glued to you. "I couldn't do anything without you."

"Look at you now, though," Beca has a tired grin on her face where her head is draped on your lap, hands grazing around the burns on your wrists. "Looking all sexy and badass in my jacket." She then lifts up a hand to graze at your neck where a new piece of jewelry hangs that matches her own, but Lou's is more detailed. "And my mom's _bling_."

You cringe at Beca's word choice, but shake your head with a laugh nonetheless.

"It suits you," she mutters quietly, eyes fixated on the necklace in admiration until they lift to meet your watery stare.

There's nothing more that you'd want to do than take Beca, drive her back to the cabin, forget all about this night and everything will return to _normal_. She can go back to making music in her studio and you surprise her with her favorite breakfast. You can be working on homework and then all of a sudden _not_ be working on homework when your attention is rerouted to Beca's lips instead and more _important_ things are needed to be done.

You two can go back to living your lives, together, happy and in love, just how you've always dreamt of.

But you know that can't happen.

Not yet, at least.

Not with Gail and Kommissar still alive.

You know you don't have much time; you've already spent a good fraction bringing Beca to safety and making sure she was safe to leave. When you tell her that you have things to finish and are about to stand up after placing her gently on the ground, she grabs at your wrist with her eyes pleading you not to leave, avoiding your burns.

The look alone rips your insides to shreds and pokes your heart with a sharp blade, but you know nothing will change unless you finish this for good.

Beca sighs defeated and there's a sag to her shoulders-like she knows the inevitable. If there was one thing that you taught her under the millions of things she's taught you it's that you give stubborn a _whole_ new meaning. Trying to stop you from putting yourself in danger would be a lost cause and waste of time, but you also know that Beca doesn't treat you like a fragile piece of glass, either.

Which is why she gives you a faint nod in understanding, even though her eyes hold so much worry and hesitation to keep you from going back into the heart of the forest.

At least without her assistance and protection.

"Besides, I have this _super_ awesome gun my girlfriend made for me that I _really_ want to use on Gail." You lift up the H &K MG5 from your back, flaunting it to Beca with pride and it seems to put a weak smile back on Beca's face.

"Even though I treated you like complete and utter _shit_ when you didn't deserve it, I remembered our conversation, about zombies and all that." She chuckles quietly at the memory and lifts her thumb to trace over the letters engraved. "I knew when I was bitten Gail had something to do with it-though I never assumed it would be voodoo. I couldn't bare to hurt you anymore than I already did, so whatever time I had left I went to Buckhead to do a little... _customizing_."

"She shoots smooth-or at least she does with the few shots I've already taken," you compliment with a smile and move your thumb from the hand wrapped around the handle to rest over Beca's. "Definitely would be a good choice in a zombie apocalypse, I must say."

Beca's small smile is there for a moment longer until her face deflates again. "I know it doesn't make up for how I treated you and how I never told you what was going on. I-I...I was scared, really. I d-didn't know what... _exactly_...was happening and I couldn't control myself-"

You shush Beca, shaking your head and grabbing one of her hands. Looking her dead in the eyes, "it's _not_ your fault," you swear, making sure she hears every last sound and syllable and believes every last word. "But I am going to end this once in for all."

Beca doesn't look all that convinced; you know she still blames herself despite the poison and how she treated you, but she gives you another nod and squeezes your hand tighter.

"I'll be back, okay?"

"Okay."

You glance over at Stacie who is inspecting and caring for Aubrey's wound and try to drown out the piercing sounds of cackles and gunshots happening below in the forest. "Please be safe and keep an eye on Beca. I don't know what Gail did to her, but she lost a lot of blood and is extremely weak."

At Stacie's head nod, you glance back at Beca who hasn't taken her eyes off you. Her lips are chapped, skin is pale and there's dark circles under her eyes that are fighting to stay open, but you still think she looks undeniably beautiful.

Leaning in, you place a lingering kiss over her lips, just light enough to feel her skin on yours, but still forceful enough to take your breath away. You savor the feeling; a feeling you knew you missed, but never once thought _this_ much and pray to whatever higher power that this won't be the last time you get to kiss the love of your life.

Beca pulls away first, eyes dark and glassy, shining with unshed tears and worry every blink.

"I'll be right back. Another kiss for good luck?"

Beca nods her head softly, chuckling at the way you pucker up before she attaches a hand at the back of your neck to pull you down and meet her lips halfway, planting a firm kiss over your lips. "Go get them, Red," she mutters across your lips and tosses you not her _best_ wink, but one that still makes your heart stammer. "Hurry your cute butt back here for your victory kiss."

And with that, you're standing up to run back along the path to get to lower ground, tossing aside the empty magazine clip from your gun and replacing it with a new, fully loaded one with silver bullets.

And the warm, tingling feeling of Beca's lips against yours that you can't wait to get another taste, which is _definitely_ something to look forward to once this all blows over.

The sounds of gunshots become louder the closer you get to the witch nest, as well as the thick cloud of smoke that makes it challenging to breathe without hacking up a lung and even keep your eyes open. The glow from the fire becomes brighter and you know you're almost to the nest, but something-or should you say _someone_ \- stops you before you can make it.

Taking quite the hit, your back hits the ground first and the amount of times you've been tackled to the ground tonight is just flat out uncalled for ( _like, I'm definitely going to need to see my chiropractor after all this ends)_. Immediate pain shoots up your spine, all the way up to your ears and quickly, a stone cold, bony hand with nails as sharp as razor blades clutches onto your neck, closing your windpipe once again.

You lift up your gun to shoot before everything in your throat is _disintegrated_ , but you soon realize it was tossed in an unreachable distance away from you to reach where one of Gail's slaves pinned you to the ground. Panic increases at the same time you listen to the eerie cackles coming from above where one of the slaves is holding you down, unable to move and realizing that Beca isn't here this time to save you.

You try to jerk and wriggle yourself loose, but you're losing consciousness, which means you're also losing strength, so anything you do has no effect. Your head, more specifically your brain, is also losing oxygen, which is resulting in major lightedness to make your movements less urgent. It wouldn't matter anyways because these things are _inhumanly_ strong, making you cemented to the ground.

Like, no joke, Aubrey wasn't messing around when she said these things were strong.

A memory sparks up in your head between the blackness filling your eyes when you remember the armor and weapons you have scattered all over your body for times like these. Using the little bit of strength you have left, you reach into the inside of your boot to receive the buffalo pocket knife you stored in there and take a shift swipe to stab the blade into the side of the slave's neck and are greeted _immediately_ by that repulsive, blood like substance to spray across your face like a fountain.

Unable to do anything about the uncontrollable spraying, the black gunk gets into your eyes, making you blind to see anything, but the weight of the slave is off your body, as well as the grip around your throat and you can hear the screeches of pain from the distance. You rub out your eyes as best as you can, everything is still kind of blurry, it fucking _stings_ , and it's hard to keep them open, but you're able to reach behind your back, pull out Beca's Desert Eagle and take a shot that hopefully hits near, or _in_ the slave's heart.

Turns out, you hit just the right spot after much, **much** practice shooting ( _thank you, baby_ ) and the witch slave has barely enough time to react until she's turned to ash, silencing the area from those window shattering screeches and allowing you to retrieve your gun back. Taking a deep breath in preparation of what's next to come, you continue on your previous trail, following the scene of the wind storm.

This happens a few more times, especially once you make it into the nest where all the action is present and being prepared this time, you can take your shots before you're thrown to the ground and choked out. You glance around the forest looking for Gail or Kommissar, but notice they're nowhere to be seen and instead there is a _ridiculous_ amount of slaves charging at all the other witch hunters, thirsty for blood and to rip apart anything they can get their hands on.

In a fluid motion, Luke shoots his crossbow at one slave charging at you faster than any of the other slaves you've encountered, hitting them square in the thigh. When the slave howls out in pain, you take your shot, lifting your machine gun up to your eye and pull the trigger before the bullets hit her square in the heart and she morphs to dust.

"Bloody Hell, Chloe, your neck!" Luke is multitasking by shooting at the slaves and taking his glances at your neck apparently, which happens to be bleeding when you lift up a hand to feel what he sees. Not only is it bleeding, but the skin is tender and you flinch when your finger press to harshly over the bruises.

"I'm fine!" you assure Luke, shooting at any slave you can see between the smoke of the fire, ash from the dead slaves, the flying debris and darkness the blood moon has brought to the forest. Your neck is on fire now that he has pointed it out and is also starting to bruise, but that's the least of your concerns right now. "How many are there?!"

"I don't know, but they're fucking everywhere!" This seems to be true when you look up at the sky and see some of the slaves flying on what looks like broomsticks and the sky is way too dark to even get a clean shot and above, they just look like a bunch of bats but like, a _billion_ times faster and just as scary ( _I hate bats_ ). "The slaves also have these _bloody_ spears they are tossing from that high, so be careful!"

It's too late for this warning as one of those _so-called_ spears grazes right pass your shoulder, cutting the material of Beca's jacket, as well as your skin before you can even process trying to block or move out of the way. You hiss you pain when you feel the immediate sting; the gash is pretty deep from all the blood and hurts like _hell_ , but it's nothing you can't work with.

You take your aim at the sky but not without the pain, shooting at anything you can get a glimpse at and trying not to get speared by anything else- _Jesus, what else can these things do?_ Lucky enough with the amount of rounds your gun is able to shoot- _maybe that kiss worked after all-_ you get ahold of more than a few slaves when multiple clouds of ash rain down on you from above. It's way gross, but you'd rather be covered in dead, witch dust than that nasty, black goo they explode with-which is a _smelly_ reminder of earlier that covers most your face and hair.

Luke takes a brief second to inspect your arm and informs you that other than a pretty _deep_ cut that is going to need stitches, it didn't hit any main arteries, so that's good to know. "Most of the team has been handling these slaves, but there's a few of us down! Came out of nowhere and there was nothing we could do!"

Your stomach automatically curls at the thought of some of the witch hunters being injured and it makes you feel even more sick when Luke tells you that some didn't even make it. Seeing it in person with the bullets before everything went to shit was the _worst_ thing you've ever witness and can't even imagine what you would feel like if it were Stacie, Aubrey or Beca.

He senses this and gives you as much sympathy as he can, "They all wanted to be here and fight for Beca and Lou. Don't you dare think it's your fault, Red."

You wipe forcefully at your tears you didn't even know were streaming down your face, or the fact that you started crying, but this time they're tears of pure anger "Are you clairvoyant, too?" you grumble out over the tears at the same time to try to get yourself together and Luke gives you a small chuckle.

"No, I just can read people really fucking good," is his witty response back and of course it is. Why would you expect anything else from him- _he's British for crying out loud._ They have the ability to scout out a good sense of character in their DNA.

Out of nowhere and totally _killing_ the moment, Luke takes his pistol and shoots just over your shoulder at a slave sprinting at you from behind without you knowing, but he kills it before you're attack. The same happens to Luke unexpectedly, but you lift your gun and shoot another upcoming slave before it got too close to the hunter, turning the slave to ash.

Just when you think you're getting a hang of this witch hunting deal that has recently been added to your resume and you're running on pure adrenaline, you notice a familiar form out of your peripherals to freeze your movements, looking you dead in the eye.

It's a face and presence that is completely different from what you last remember, but a face and presence that has been a large part of your life at Barden and someone you thought you'd _never_ see again. You know exactly who it is when you catch the shimmer from the silver wrapped around the slave's neck; the same silver you have around yours and despite the true hideousness covering most the face, it's a face you could never forget.

"Roxy?" you mutter in disbelief and you'd be crazy to think you'd receive any clarification from someone who is basically _dead_ and looks like she's seconds away from charging at you without any recognition or care of _who_ you are.

But all the memories- _great_ memories you have with your former house mother are the main reasons why you're too frozen to shoot when she does decide to charge and, _shocker_ , you're back on the ground again for round three.

It's Luke who pulls out one of his smaller hand guns and takes a shot from behind Roxy, turning her to ash that seconds later covers your body head to toe; you feel sorry at first, but then realize there was nothing you could've done for her. This time the remnants are a little disturbing knowing who exactly is covering your body that you had a personal connection with.

Luke gives you a hand and helps you off the ground, the amount of slaves left to kill seems to becoming less and less, which is good because you don't know how many more hits your back can take.

But the slaves aren't the major problem here

There is, however, two _giant_ problems that need to be stopped before it's too late.

"We need to find Gail and Kommissar and kill them!" You shout loudly, scanning the area with your weapons; the fire is uncontrollable now and the smoke is so bad you're unable to keep yourself from wheezing and seeing anything is becoming rather _difficult_.

"They're here...but way too... _powerful_! I honestly don't know how we are even going to get close enough to either of the- _Chloe_! Behind you!"

Again, the warning is too late before a force throws you aggressively into a tree, back taking most of the impact and you _**swear**_ , you're going to be in a wheelchair if you get tossed around like a rag doll any longer.

But your back is the least of your worries when you notice a fully transformed witch, Kommissar, sauntering up to you slowly, fire glowing from her fingertips and keeping you locked to the tree with no way of moving.

It only gets worse when growing roots from the ground appear out from the ground, taking each of your limbs to hold you firmly in place no matter how hard to try to break lose. Luke uses his crossbow to shoot at Kommissar, and then at the roots holding your limbs, but a ball of fire from the large flame in the middle of the forest is thrown at his chest, lighting him up into flames.

You scream for Luke, losing him would be something you'd never get over and use every bit of strength you have in your body to peel yourself away from the tree, but Kommissar's telekinesis using the roots against you makes it impossible to even _budge_.

Thankfully, Luke is able to take his jacket off his body which is the piece of him that is mostly covered in flames before it was his whole body being burnt. Adar emerges from behind another tree, as well as Vince the bodyguard, and both are about to use their snipers on Kommissar, but suddenly _every_ piece of steel, including all your weapons and even Adar and Vince's are levitated into the sky out of reach.

And now without any weapons whatsoever, you start to believe you all are really _doomed_.

" _ **Kill her, my sister!"**_ Fantastic. It's Gail again when you see her cackling from behind the smoke and fire and, like, _why_ did she have to reappear when _every_ weapon you guys packed are now floating in the sky? That's right, because _go figure_ , it's her doing it. " _ **Rip out her heart and give it to me! I want to feel young again!"**_

Luke and many others of the witch hunters try to charge at Kommissar before she can get to you, but all that happens is for them to be tossed left and right, effortlessly, while you are still glued to the tree and Kommissar is _footsteps_ away from you. So close you can see the blacks of her eyes filled with hunger, white, cracked skin covering her face, hair falling out and a monstrous smile targeted on you now that her mask is off.

You're about to face the inevitable, ready to give up after all this fight when Kommissar stops in her tracks. Frozen in place and out of body it seems. The abrupt stop loosens the hold against your body, causing the roots from the trees to die around your ankles and wrists, freeing you off the trunk and a glimmer to Kommissar's neck catches your attention.

Instinctively seeing your chance while the witch is experiencing some sort of paralysis, you rip the necklace from her neck in a fluid motion and toss the glowing red piece of jewelry into the large flames. Without her magic, you hope she has nothing left and you guys will be given a chance to win this thing.

Gail is screaming from the background as the fire glows to purple, to green, to a blue hue before returning back to that orangish, red color. She's trying to reach out to her sister, screaming desperately for her attention, but whatever it is happening to Kommissar has too strong of a grasp on her mind to hear out her sister's screams of terror.

Another presence slides up beside you and by the sudden mood shift in the aroma and how Gail's face visibly pales-more so than her original color-you know who it is causing Kommissar to lose all control of her body and immediate worry to light up on Gail's face.

With one single command and catching the white cane out of your peripherals, " **fetch** ," Lou whispers quietly into Kommissar's ear and the witch moves on autopilot towards the fire without any hesitation or fight until her form is engulfed by the flames where her necklace was thrown.

There's more screaming from Gail as she collapses to her knees with a certain emotion highlighted on her features as she watches her sister burn till there's nothing left; a look of sadness and hurt and the stone on her neck is glowing brightly.

And then there's a look of utter rage and betrayal which is then directed towards you and Lou.

Catching this horrifying stare, the flaring nostrils, the bloodshot eyes from the unshed tears and the invisible foam _oozing_ from her mouth, you never thought a look could kill until now under Gail's eyes that are boring into your soul.

Whatever Lou just did to make Kommissar _willingly_ walk herself into a burning pit of fire without putting up an ounce of fight, you _really_ wish for her to do it again because Gail is **furious**.

It's written all over her face and all of her anger and remorse is aimed directly at you and you really don't know how long you've got before she does something extremely painful-you can only imagine- to you as revenge.

You're about to say something to Lou, ask for some guidance through this madness, but a powerful stroke to the lip catches you off guard and by all the jewelry worn on the hand that happens to split open your upper lip, you know it's Jade.

And she is _not_ happy.

You realize this when she pins you back to a tree, eyes black as night and smile as sinister as ever when she lifts a similar spear up to your neck. Stricken by pain when the point of the spear is pressed firmly against your pulse point and it only increases by the thudding you can feel your heart enduring.

"Jade!" It's Lou and her voice is stern and harsh enough to pull some of Jade's attention off you, but her grip and the spear pointed at your neck doesn't ease up. "You're **not** her mut!" She shouts, but it has no effect.

" **Kill her**!" Is Gail's vicious command.

You notice Jade clench her teeth angrily at this, making the point of the spear go deeper into your neck to cut skin this time, which is the opposite of what you want to happen- _Lou, do something before she kills me!_ But you notice confliction in what both witches are telling her to do.

Then Lou chants the same Latin, you think, sentence over and over again, using a spear from the ground to cut the palm of her hand into a small 'x' shape. From whatever Lou is chanting causes Jade to retract her weapon from the base of your throat and wail in pain, cupping her ears and thrashing her body back and forth.

You're startled when Luke slides up next to you to check your wounds like he did with your arm and informs you that there is barely anything there. You beg to differ from the amount of blood you can feel running down your neck, but at this point with all your injuries, you can't even tell where it is coming from.

Lou taps her cane around the forest; Jade is literally going haywire from Gail's screams and Lou chanting some mysterious spell, you assume, and Lou eventually makes it over to Jade. Luke is about to take action seeing Lou upfront with Jade, who is clearly not in the right mindset and _extremely_ dangerous, but you keep a hold on his arm, pulling him back and telling him to trust her.

It doesn't convince him at first and jerks towards Lou and Jade like he's going to intervene, but you tighten your grip around his arm and give him a more firm tug backwards until he calms down.

Jade's screams start to ease, as do her erratic movements all over the forest as she tries to block out Lou's voice. Using the same spear, Lou grabs Jade's hand and carves the same 'x' in her palm before connecting their hands together, mixing both of their blood. Once the contact is initiated, Jade's body becomes motionless and Lou is able to glamour her with the power of concilium.

"You are a white witch, Jade. You use your powers for _good_ , not evil. Gail is using you as a _weapon_ , not a witch who is part of her coven," Lou's voice is soothing and clear as she speaks slowly to Jade, white eyes glued to pitch black eyes. " _Follow_ my voice, Jade. _Listen_ to my voice and find your way **out**."

" **No**! **Don't listen to her!** " Gail howls out in rage, but it's already too late to stop the reverse spell.

You watch Jade's eyes morph from marble black to her normal, blue eyed color and exhales everything toxic out from inside her body, leaving a very relieved Lou and boyfriend. When you see that Jade is trying to process everything that has just happened and take some time to come to conclusion she is no longer a threat, you let go of Luke's arm, allowing him to run over and wrap his arms around the girl, almost knocking her off her feet.

"I-I...I'm so s-sorry," Jade is a whimpering mess, which means she is crying, but Luke tries to assure her that it wasn't her fault as he hugs her for dear life. You can say the same, even though you now have a broken back, popped windpipe and a busted lip because of Jade, but you don't hold grudges.

Like Beca, Jade wasn't herself.

"There's no way of stopping her," Lou pulls you out of your stare on the couple and you realize she is standing right next to you all of a sudden. You're about to ask about alternative plans because Gail needs to die _regardless,_ but she cuts you off. "For you guys, at least. As for myself, I still have my plan."

"And that is?" you question suspiciously; you and the hunters won't be of any assistance due to the fact your weapons are still levitated high in the sky, so what her plan is better involve some serious witch power.

"Boys," Lou calls out for some of the hunters to hold Gail down, putting a restraint around her wrists and destroy the stone around her neck until the rock is shattered into pieces, calming the wind storm till it's no more.

Gail attempts to put up a fight, but the guards are far larger than her and without her powers from the stone, she is frail and hopeless. And without any of her powers, all the weapons from the sky come falling down at once and you have to dodge multiple weapons not to get hit or shot at when the land on the ground. When Lou senses that Gail is taken care of for the time being and you find a random gun to point at Gail, she turns to face you, her expression neutral and calm.

"Descensum," is all Lou says, glaring at Gail who is getting weaker and weaker by the second and honestly, you don't know what that word means. Like, at all. Hell, half of what she says is like a foreign language, but whatever it is that she's referring to sounds excessive. "It's the power to project one's soul into the nether worlds of the afterlife. She's weak enough that I can put her under my mind control and take her down with me."

 _Okay, but if Lou goes to the afterlife,_ "how will you get back?" you ask worried and point your gun down; the plan sounds legitimate, but also sounds like complete _suicide_. See what you meant by fucking _excessive_? "Y-you can't... _no_! I won't let you! There has to be a better way! We have our guns now-silver bullets! We can kill her this way!" You point your gun back up at Gail, ready to shoot and kill this bitch for good, but you're stopped from doing so.

"And chance her resurgence ability? I don't think so," Lou retaliates as she lowers your weapon so that it's aimed to the ground and then until it's no longer in your hand and instead near your boots.

And, yeah, _okay_. Maybe you didn't think about that, but perhaps it's because you're willing to do _anything_ to save Lou's life and not let her go through with this.

"I'm the only witch living who has practiced this form of transportation to actual perform it. Without my portal into the real world, Gail's soul will be trapped in the afterlife with no way of returning," Lou explains gently to you, curving up a small smile as one of her hands finds your cheek and you lean into the touch, but not without thinking she's _lunatic_. "You've impressed me in more ways than one."

You shake your head violently as the tears begin to fall, not okay with Lou doing any of this when there are other ways to kill Gail-well, you _think_ there is. You _hope_ there is. You just don't want Lou to sacrifice herself because even though you've only known her for twenty days, _exact_ , she's become your family and her dying is something you can't live with.

"Don't put any of this on your shoulders, Chloe. I've been given a second chance at life and I believe this moment is why it's my time to go-and for good this time," Lou's voice is calming despite your battling emotions and her touch reminds you of Beca's; gentle but firm.

It's a reminder that once all of this is over, you'll finally be able to live a safe future with the girl you love doing unimaginable, _exciting_ things together and Lou is the one person who can make all of that possible. Words can't even begin to express how much what she is doing means to you. How she's protecting you and Beca and the rest of Barden by a simple sacrifice.

Just to end it all.

"Be good to yourself, and Beca...but mostly yourself. I am so glad to have met you." Lou leans down to press a lingering kiss at the top of your hairline and it's the feeling of her lips, a silent goodbye on you skin through a heartfelt gesture that makes you break down in tears as you watch her go, unable to say or do anything to stop her.

As if she already lost, Gail falls to her kneecaps from where she is being held up by the hunters, watching every step Lou takes until she is standing right in front of her. "Just do it. You've already taken away _everything_ that I live for," Gail spits harshly, eyes struggling to stay open.

Lou removes the goat's head and Gail's face resembles a skeleton type of ill that exposes just how truly weak she really is. From the spellbook, to losing her army, to losing her sister, and the blood moon almost being finished, it makes sense why she's basically _dead_ already.

Ignoring the powerless witch, "All of this Gail." Lou raises up her arms from her sides, gesturing to the forest; the fire, the blood, the complete chaos she brought with her into Barden. "All of this for _immortality_ , yet you know you're already dead. Was it worth it?"

"I've never liked you," Gail disregards Lou's question and replies bluntly, words bitter and sharp. "My sole purpose in this world was to make sure I take you off it. I thought I won the first time, but I guess I was too _blind_ to see just how strong your powers actually were." She's the only one laughing at her obvious attack against Lou, taking that the witch is blind and even through your tears you want nothing more than to watch her die. "But if what it takes to get you out of this world is for me to die, **then. so. be. it.** "

Lou says nothing to this, but instead watches Gail's body deteriorate bit by bit by the current state she is in. When she coughs up blood from her laughter and you notice the black in her eyes starting to reappear, you know it's Lou's chance to end it all.

"You and I both have vendettas," Lou finally speaks up, voice quiet but firm. "It's time to put them all to rest." Pressing both of her palms on either side of Gail's head, Lou begins another chant-this time she practically whispers the words. " _Spiritu duce, in me est. Deduce me in tenebris vita ad extremum, ut salutaret inferi. Descensum._ "

And suddenly, they both collapse to the ground, leaving the entire forest silent, except for the soundless cracks to your heart as it breaks in half when seeing Lou's lifeless form.

You're a mess when the tears won't stop flowing, no matter how hard you try, or grip at the necklace hanging off your neck so tight, as if _that_ would be all it takes to bring Lou back. All of a sudden, Luke and Jade are by your side to comfort you and, _cautiously_ , when you're positive that Jade isn't going to try and rip your head off, you lean into her embrace, crying into her leather as she tries to ease your tears.

It's not much longer before both Lou and Gail's bodies turn to ash, floating up into the sky to mix with the smoke and flames from the fire, both of them _gone_ forever. Looking up through tear filled eyes, you see that the eclipse is almost over, part of the yellow glow from the full moon is now showing and only half is covered by a shadow.

To add to everything else that is happening, the Bellas scattered all over the forest start to stir until most of them are sitting up, confusion bright on their faces as if they don't know what just happened the past few _months_. Emily even calls out your name, weakly and hoarse, stumped and a little freaked out about where she is as of now, but you ignore her.

Eventually, you get a grasp on yourself and the tears come to a halt. Slowly, you lift your aching body up from the ground and back away from Jade, sending her an appreciative smile to let the girl know that, once again, _nothing_ was her fault. When you receive a small smile back, you tell the group that you're going to go find Beca and if they all could gather up the Bellas before everyone loses their mind.

Because you know that's destined to come-Hell, if you woke up clueless in the middle of the forest, covered in blood, dead witch and wearing creepy gown with no recollection of ever getting here, you'd flip _shit_.

So you need the rest of the witch hunters to take the Bellas, get them to the police back at Barden and back to safety before all of them go berserk.

All **two hundred** of them.

You stumble away from the nest as you watch Luke, Jade and Adar head for Emily and the rest of your sisters, who are all seconds away from losing it, but obey orders when they're told to follow the hunters. Your body isn't the only thing that is hurting right now; your heart feels as if someone is squeezing it tight with an iron fist and it's about ready to pop, but you also can't help but feel... _happy_ , in a sense. Relieved that all of this is finally over and you can go back to living a normal, college life.

However, this time live a normal, college life with somebody else.

You make it back up the hill after jogging most of the distance, too eager to share the news with your friends and Beca that Gail and Kommissar are long gone. Your lungs are burning from the fire, muscles are basically cramping and you want nothing more than to stop and curl up on the ground in the fetal position, but seeing Beca is what fuels you to run _faster_.

And finally, you see all your friends at the top, thankfully still alive and look just like how you left them.

"Jesus Christ, Chloe. What the hell happened?" Aubrey's definitely talking about your current appearance and how you resemble someone who just recently climbed through a chimney filled with ash from dead witches and got sprayed in the face by a squid simultaneously, but you don't pay her much attention.

Other than a quick smile when you see that her leg is in somewhat good shape-well, as good as it can get for now- and thank both her and Stacie for keeping an eye out on Beca, your appearance is the least of your concerns.

All you can think about is Beca and how everything-all the witches, spells and _hocus pocus bullshit_ is finally over.

All you can think about is finally being able to live a normal life with your girlfriend doing what normal girlfriends do-well, as normal as you and Beca can get.

You cheek a distance away from Beca when you see her, still safe and looking a little better than how you first left her. Seems like she's been able to gain some of her energy back after using so much of powers when she was already weak from the poison and lost of blood.

"Hey beautiful," you gush at your girlfriend and jog over to her side before plopping down next to her legs, collapsing your body into Beca's to envelope her into a hug not tight enough to hurt either of you, but to show exactly how much you've missed her.

Beca looks practically like a drunken version of herself; her eyelids are sagging shut, she has a dopey, lopsided smile on her face and her movements come out extremely slow and laggy. Admittedly, it's a pretty darn cute version of your girlfriend and you could only imagine how adorable she looks when it's alcohol and not the lack of blood in her system.

Beca scoffs out a laugh. "Beautiful, _yeah right_. I don't even want to think about how awful I look."

"Baby, I've never been _more_ attracted to you," and you mean it. From the uncharacteristically paleness covering Beca's skin, the dark rings around her eyes, blood under her nose and that _God awful_ gown she's stuck in ( _it does knock off some major sex appeal points_ ), she still looks so damn beautiful that it makes your chest hurt.

Plus, her hair still look _flawless_ , which is simultaneously annoying as it is impressive.

"You look _real_ good, babe," you purr seductively at the same time you lift a hand to cup the side of her cheek and melt at how she nudges her face closer into your palm.

Beca gives you a genuine laugh, planting a soft kiss into your palm, not caring that your hand is disgusting, covered in dirt, mud and your own blood. "Would you swipe right on me right now?"

Beca's looking for you to stroke your ego and, of course, you give her what she wants. "Oh definitely," you add a playful wiggle to your eyebrows, so undeniably happy to have her back. "I would _super_ like you."

"But would you smash?"

" _One hundred_ _percent_."

"Do I still look like a snack?"

"Psh, more like a six course _meal_ , Becs."

"Then get down here and kiss me like you missed me, Red," Beca taunts and, uh, _duh_ , her wish is your command and you waste no time before pressing your lips firmly on hers, electrifying your body with a new sense of warmth and passion.

And it's nice.

Really _fucking_ nice to kiss her again.

Hold her face in your hands as hers fist and claw at your hair when she pulls off the ponytail, freeing those red locks into her grasps.

It's a different kiss this time, though it's a kiss you've been longing since the day Beca left you and it's not because the cut on your lip is _burning_ from being pressed up against Beca's and it's kinda of messy ( _gross, maybe?_ ) with all the blood and sweat and dirt.

There's something else you can't quite put your finger on, but either way it leaves your body _vibrating_ in ecstasy, making you never wanting to stop.

"Still feel like you can hear colors and see sounds?" Beca takes a brief moment away from your lips to ask this in her low, raspy voice, taking precious words you've said in the past right from your mouth.

You shake your head, giggling madly, kissing her a few more times even though you're _technically_ covered in dead witches. "I feel, _indestructible_ babe," you correct and it's more than an understatement.

Beca traces her thumb lightly across you upper lip, exactly where Jade punched you into another universe and it's shown by the swelling and split lip that stings point to touch. "Remember the first time you left the forest with a busted lip?" she asks humorously, smiling when you roll your eyes.

"I got a little cocky, _I_ _know_." You can't help but giggle at the memory; something that seems like it happened so long ago. "Still think I look cute with a fat lip?"

"More like the cutest." Beca smiles in a way that is painfully adorable and it's a good thing she thinks it cute, because you have a feeling you're going to be sporting this battle wound for a while.

"Damn right I do."

"You did it," Beca pulls away to tell you this, pride lacing her words and dripping from that crooked smile of hers. " _You_ fucking did it."

Your heart grows to a size not built for the human body and you feel a itchy tingle to your nose knowing you've made your girlfriend proud. "I mean, not by myself," you take a glance at Stacie and Aubrey, sharing a smile that shows you couldn't have done it without them. "And...of course." There's one more person you don't have the strength to say; someone who you've already cried over as it's shown by the redness to your swollen eyes.

Beca's face falls at the dangle of your sentence; you hate to bring it up, but you figured the conversation is bound to come up eventually. The sadness that washes over Beca's face breaks your heart into a million pieces and you _hate_ that you know there's absolutely no way to fix it except to be there for her-which is exactly what you do.

Without any thought, you pull Beca into your frame, smothering her with your warmth despite how disgusting you feel and look and savor the feeling when Beca secures a hold around your waist. Sympathetic looks come from the other two, knowing whatever Beca is going through is something they could never imagine nor assume what Beca feels right now. You could never put yourself in Beca's shoes, but being in your own and knowing the wonderful human being lost today, the pain you feel doesn't even compare to the pain you see gathering up inside Beca.

"She came to me before she left," Beca speaks out of nowhere where her face is pressed up against your shoulder. Her words aren't as shaky as you'd expected and they come out rather smoothly, but still soft like they could break any second. "Told me what she was about to do and how _nothing_ would change her mind."

You remain silent to allow Beca to continue, but it doesn't stop you from providing as much comfort as you are humanly possible to give, wrapping your arms around the girl tighter and dropping kisses on the top of her head, just to remind her that you're here.

But the silence continues longer than you expected; the whole forest now darkened to its normal self and the blood moon has finally come to an end.

You hear a heavy inhale, followed by a shaky, choked up exhale and feel Beca pull her face off your chest to gaze at you. For the first time since you've known her, you see true sadness hidden under those cobalt eyes-eyes that have seen so much and hold so much strength and bravery.

Yet at this moment, their strength is running thin.

Eventually Beca speaks up again, voice this time louder as she sucks back the pain and tears visible in her eyes, but they never fall. "She told me to take care of you and _dammit_ that's what I'm going to do."

You smile shyly at Beca's sincere and genuine bark and how her eyes haven't left yours. "She told me the same thing too and you know what? I'm about to make you the best damn grilled cheese in the world when we get back to the cabin." The mood lightens up at the same time Beca's face does and she's snickering into your jacket.

Looking up at you, eyes now having a certain shine to them that makes your heartbeat feel like a sledgehammer, "is that so?" Beca baits smugly and you erratically shake your head with a cheeky grin. "Let me stitch up your arm and spend a night in the hot tub and you got yourself a deal."

Your smile is so wide your cheeks start to hurt. "Deal."

"Oh I'm in!" Is hollered from the other side of the forest where Stacie is raising her hand up for no apparent reason while Aubrey looks at her disapprovingly for interrupting the moment. "Sorry," she then mutters under her breath, avoiding eye contact from both you and Beca. "Continue on with giving each other heart eyes."

Dismissing Stacie's random comment and beaming a smile down at Beca when you think of something just as random, "you wanna know something?"

Beca quirks an eyebrow up, looking at you sideways in confusion, but still very much interested. "Hit me," she tells you with a light chuckle.

"If this was a movie, Bonnie Tyler would _totes_ be playing in the background."

Beca squints her eyes at the artist's name. "Holding out for a hero?"

You burst with excitement and cheek a grin, making sure that Beca knows she hit the bullseye and when she sees it, she rolls her eyes and you never thought you'd miss that notorious action of hers as much as you did.

"I was thinking more of a Dolly soundtrack," Beca counters smugly and you bounce your head side to side, taking the suggestion into consideration. "You know, another day in the life of dating a witch hunter."

" _Working nine to five_ , _what a way to making a living. Barley getting by...no givin'...somethin' somethin' never give you credit,_ " you sing playfully to Beca who this time doesn't even cringe at the song you're serenading her with. You also blame the jumble of words on the lack of knowledge you have behind the lyrics, but hum the tune like it's engraved inside your head. "Honestly, that's an even better song choice. Good job, baby."

Suddenly, Beca howls over in laughter and because her laugh is very contagious and something that warms your insides, you join the laughter. She pulls you down by the neck for a fierce kiss, not fierce like you remember them, but a lot more aggression is put into this liplock and you smile when you feel Beca's teeth clank against yours in the least attractive ways.

Beca's the first to pull away, heavy breathing and all while you're still a little lightheaded. Whether it's from the kiss, or taking down a evil witch coven, the world may never know.

Her thumb traces around your cut on your lip at the same time she emits a disbelieving chuckle. "How the hell are we going to explain this?"

And honestly, you have _no idea._

* * *

"Take this," you instruct a sleepy Beca, who is relaxing contently underneath the warm bubble bath you made her before scouting out some items in the kitchen. Handing her a small cup size of this _nauseating_ green liquid that smells just as foul, as well as a king size snickers bar you found in the pantry and a coke, you stand besides the tub. "My brother is diabetic, so those two should help."

Beca eyes the items suspiciously, but takes each one of them nonetheless. "I don't think my blood sugar is low, babe. I'm pretty sure I'm just lacking blood in general." She chuckles at your pout; you just want her to feel better and not look so ill and you are willing to do anything to help. "But thank you for caring, it means a lot. I _definitely_ will still be eating this because it's a crime not to eat candy on Halloween." She practically licks her lips at the candy.

"Share?" you perk up, eyes glued to the snickers bar in Beca's soapy hands; it couldn't of fit Beca more with the words "sarcastic" written on the wrapper, like she purposely picked _that_ one. "Because you love me?"

"Oh I'll share with you," you beam when Beca starts slowly ripping the corner of the bar, revealing that marvelous, chocolate _masterpiece_ to the point where you think you're drooling. When Beca stops all of a sudden and you tear your eyes away from the candy and notice her squinted eyes, your heart rate raises. "After you finish that."

Your entire body undergoes an unpleasant shiver at the same time your face cringes so hard the look might be permanent. Beca's finger is pointing over towards a similar size cup filled with the same green substance that hers _was_ filled with and you don't have to be reminded, again, by how much you do not want to drink that.

There's a perfect reason why you sat it on the counter _feet_ away from you-actually **two** reasons.

1\. the drink smells absolutely _horrendous_ , for lack of a better word, which means it smells just like how it tastes. 2. you just don't want to drink it _period_.

"Just take a little sippy sip."

"It smells like the inside of a coffin!"

" _Ohkay_ dramatic."

"Aubrey almost _puked_ from drinking that," your response is short, sweet and to the point-which hopefully makes Beca understand you'd rather stub your toe a thousand times than take another whiff. "Stacie had to force feed her like a _baby_ because she wouldn't drink it, so I think that's a sign," you continue on with your reasons as to why you should touch let alone look at that _god awful_ concoction. "Even Stacie was green in the face!"

Beca's not listening to you, but in fact her main focus is locked on the candy bar wrapper she's peeling at, taunting you from the bathtub like the evil girlfriend she truly is. Knowing you're watching like a hawk, she only plays dirtier when she takes a slow, _torturing_ bite at the top of the chocolate bar, pulling away with a perfect string of caramel between her teeth that she eventually licks away.

" _Babe_ ," your last resort is whining like a child as you was your girlfriend torture you by not only eating a snickers in the _sexiest_ way possible, but right in front of your face when she _knows_ you don't remember the last time you've even eaten.

Plus, you just got done defeating a witch cult, which also means you burned some _serious_ calories, so yeah, one could say that you're _starving_.

"Just close your eyes and imagine it's a kale smoothie," Beca mumbles to you in between chews, unaffected by your puppy dog pout and oblivious by how much she is killing you.

"But it's _not_ a kale smoothie," you retort back annoyed. Kale smoothies are your shit and _definitely_ taste delicious and they don't have a nasty odor radiating off them. That's an insult to even be compared to that mixture Beca calls _viridi faciem tuam_ , which is Latin for _green face_ , which is also what you're about to be if you drink that nasty stuff.

"Why must all potions and homemade remedies smell and look like death?"

"Sorry but a witch doctor can only do so much with the things she's got. I ran out of caramel, sugar and chocolate syrup with peppermint bark as garnish, so I had to make do. " Beca takes another bite of the chocolate bar; you whimper when you see the _size_ of the bite and ignore the sarcasm. Waving the candy up in the air, taunting you, "don't you want some?"

You do, you _really_ do.

Which is why you're dragging your body over to the counter to pick up the glass, not in any bit enthused about what you're about to put inside your body. You pinch the top of your nose, plugging it before raising the glass up to your lips at a _painfully_ slow speed. Taking one deep breath in, you tip the glass down until the liquid is pouring into your mouth, instantly coating your tastebuds with a sour, bitter taste.

You gag _multiple_ times through the process; you swear it almost comes back up halfway through the glass and, just a hunch, you don't think it would taste any better coming up than it did going down. In fact, you _know_ it probably would taste worse, which is what pushes you through to swallow the rest of the liquid until the glass is empty, fight the urge to spit it out and when you swallow that last gulp, your entire body is covered in goosebumps.

" _Ohmygod_!" you sputter out under the hand that shoots to cover your mouth as precaution, just in case your body decides to take charge and makes you go full on _Exorcist_ in the bathroom.

"Good job, you big baby," Beca teases you from the bathtub, clearly ignoring your current state of uncontrollable convulsions as your body experiences the unpleasant after effects from the potion. Every hair on your body is raised, so this drink better heal your burn marks around your wrists, your lip, neck and basically _entire_ body or you'll be pissed. "Now come." She taps on the side of her fancy tub. "Join me."

"I'm literally _crying_ ," you tell Beca, eyes watering like crazy, but the taste is starting to go away. You set aside the empty cup and start to peel away your clothes; a bath sounds _amazing_ right now and since the hot tub was out of question because all of you needed rest, some heat on your body is needed, like, _pronto_. "I thought Stacie and Aubrey were overreacting but, holy shit. That stuff was _bad_ , babe." Beca only laughs at you as she patiently watches you undress from beside the tub, unclasping the necklaces around your neck to join Beca's on the sink.

"How's your lip?"

"Well, it feels like I just got punched in the face by _Hades_ -Jade's alter ego," you grumble out and unbuckle your jeans before pulling down your pants and slowly usher out of them. "Remind me to never piss her off-though I've never be punched before, so it was an interesting experience that I never want to happen again."

"It wasn't her that attacked you," Beca explains gently at the same time she scooches forward in the tub, making room for you to slowly slide in behind her. "Like I remember telling you, Gail was her coven leader before my mom found her. It's easy to fail back to old roots when a past leader knows how to control you like a puppet master."

As soon as your legs are submerged under the bubbles and warmth from the water, your tense muscles begin to loosen up. You find a cozy spot behind Beca and make room for her between your legs that she takes immediately, filling the empty spot and pressing her back to your front.

"But your lip and cut on your shoulder should feel a lot better now that you drank that junk. I know it was brutal to get down-" You snort at the description ( _brutal being an understatement_ ). "But it's a healing remedy I've practice many times before. When tomorrow comes around, you, me, Aubrey and Stacie will be feeling as good as new."

"What about my back?" you remind as a joke and wrap your arms around Beca's shoulders from behind, her's grab at your forearms above her chest. Already, the warm water is helping tremendously with all your aching muscles, especially your back that feels pretty much _broken_. "I thought I was going to be rolled off in a splint by the end of the night after all the hits I took."

Beca laughs softly and cranes her head, twisting her neck to look at you and lifts the snickers bar up to your mouth, feeding you. Honestly, you forgot all about the candy, but now that it's right in front of your face and you have the _nasty_ after taste of Beca's drink, you light up with excitement.

"Give me a couple hours and I'll give you one hell of a massage," Beca makes this promise to you as she watches in awe how you take a large bite out of the chocolate bar, eyes rolling to the back of your head and moaning from the _delicious_ sensations filling your mouth.

Smiling down at the girl, "you got it," you say through a toothy grin, as well as a mouth full of _heaven_ and lean down the remaining distance to drop a few long kisses over Beca's lips. You're only able to give a few more after that before your swollen lip starts to sting.

"You're still pretty damn adorable," Beca tells you when inspecting the cut.

You squeeze the girl tighter when she repositions her head back to normal, you push her hair to the other side of her shoulder and lean your cheek on the side of her head after kissing around her lotus tattoo, contented with everything and how things turned out.

"You did it," Beca says all of a sudden.

" _We_ did it," you correct, kissing lightly up her neck and finishing at her temple.

Without Beca, none of this would've been possible. For all you know, Barden would be under control of psychopathic witches and the rest of the world would be doomed, but with everything Beca has done, the world and Barden is safe. She's safe and _you're_ safe.

"We make a pretty great team." You feel Beca smile with your face against hers at your words and nothing has ever felt so good. "I can't believe we were able to do it."

 _Of course_ , it was scary and dangerous and there were high possibilities of dying tonight and you sure as hell are paying for them by the cuts and bruises all over your body, but you wouldn't have gone about it any other way. However, because of the events that happened tonight, a life was lost; someone who was the most courageous, bravest, strongest woman you have ever had the honors of meeting.

But not only did she die leaving one _Hell_ of a legacy behind her name, she left a hero- _your_ hero.

Guess not all of them wear capes.

Because without her bravery and morality she showed tonight, you wouldn't be sitting here with the love of your life, sharing a sugar induced candy bar in a bubble bath like you're currently doing now and for once while being a couple together, not worrying about anything except each other.

"Are you okay?" you ask all of a sudden, cutting through the comfortable silence and try to keep your voice at a low enough volume.

Hearing your sudden question, Beca chuckles at first, confused as to _what_ you're asking, exactly, and why ask it now. "I mean, I'm eating junk food on Halloween in a bath with my girlfriend, _naked,_ and not being burnt at the stake. So, yeah, I'm doing pretty fucking great."

You snicker at Beca, but know more than well that it's her defense mechanism making an appearance, pushing aside all the actual emotions and feelings she has caged up inside her that she hides underneath sarcastic, witty retorts. You've been around her long enough to know when she's hurting. This time, however, you won't sit there and let her hurt on the inside without giving the sense of safety and protection she always gives to you.

"Mourning won't bring her back," Beca responds in a more serious tone and her words are emotionless, but hold a deeper sadness to them. What she said is right, nothing will bring Lou back, but holding it in doesn't help the process, either. She doesn't say anything else and you don't push her to do so, allowing her to gather what she is feeling and thinking because you know it's a lot.

Giving a moment longer of silence; you can already feel Beca's body starting to tense before you even speak. "She was fearless, basically _God_ of the witch world," you keep it light, not wanting to go full on sentimental because you can see underneath Beca's guard she's as fragile as an autumn leaf. "She's made such an impact not only in my life, but everyone she has ever come across. I know I just met her like...a month ago, but there won't be a day that goes by where I won't think of her."

More silence floods the bathroom and you become worried that you overstepped the line with a rather touchy conversation, applying salt to the wound when Beca doesn't respond. You could go on and on about what an amazing person Lou was, but there isn't enough time in the world for that. It's only when Beca's hands find yours and grip for dear life that you know she isn't upset with you. She is still trying to cover up what she truly feel

"It's okay to cry, Beca." You don't have to be clairvoyant to know this is _exactly_ what Beca's thinking and how her whole body remains as tight as a rock when you know all she needs to do is let go. Take a large exhale and express everything that she is feeling instead of keeping it in because it's the ' _tough_ ' thing to do because this time when she lets go, you'll be there to catch her. "You've been there for me so many times. Let me be here for you."

And for the first time since you've met the girl, her guard finally breaks and she unravels, body shaking in your arms as the tears come pouring out, more tears than you've ever seen someone produce.

Allowing Beca time to cope with literally _everything_ without any conversating, you wrap her into your embrace, ready to give her every ounce of comfort in your body, no matter how long it takes. She could cry for minutes or _hours_ , but either way you'll hold her until you're certain the crying has stopped.

And you'll be there for her again the next time it happens, as well.

* * *

Later that night after spending quite a bit of time in the bath while comforting Beca through her pain, the two of you are getting ready for bed when you both hear knocking on the cabin's front door. You give Beca a quizzical look and she gives you the same, unsure who it could be this late at night.

If you remember correctly, Aubrey and Stacie went to bed in the guest room after taking their own showers, so I couldn't of been them outside.

Cautiously, you and Beca tip toe over to the door; Beca has a simple, small hand gun behind her back as precaution and you try to keep your emotions in check when you figure that her carrying a gun means your two are in danger.

More knocking comes from the otherside of the wooden door, scaring you half to death when the inside of the cabin is deathly silent. Slowly, Beca peeks through the front window, ordering you to stay back and when she catches a glimpse of who it is, her entire body deflates from the tension and inflates back up with irritation.

She unlocks the door, yanking it open to reveal her dad standing in the dark, looking for the most part calm, but there's something off about him. "What are you doing here?"

Warren glances down at the gun Beca has hanging at her side, arching a brow with suspicion, but doesn't comment on it. "I figured that since a hundred plus girls are now been checked on campus by the medical team and law enforcement that you were able to destroy Gail and Kommissar?"

"I didn't defeat them," Beca's response is short and firm. "Chloe did."

You want to shrivel up at the new set of eyes now fixed on you and you give an awkward, shy wave towards Warren. He hesitantly waves back, confusion written all over his face, but then his eyes catch your physical appearance, you assume, and how even though you feel a thousand times better, that bruises, burns and cuts on your body are still visible.

"Christ, Chloe, are you okay?" He asks worriedly when spotting how badly you've taken a beating with the cuts on your face and neck and you can see Beca rolling her eyes, possibly thinking about using her gun anyways despite the guest being, well, her _father_.

He should look at what's _underneath_ your baggy t-shirt; it's bruise city galore.

"I'm fine, thank you," you assure to him and smile when he doesn't look all that convinced. "And Beca and I _both_ defeated Gail. She's gone."

Warren nods his head in understanding, but doesn't look all that elated to hear that a possible witch coven in the making is no longer an issue.

"I also assume since Gail is gone, Laurie is as well." Neither of you guys say anything, though you're confused as to how he knew about the sacrifice. At your guys' silence, tears begin to pool in his eyes and his face falls to the ground, cursing to himself.

"Oh don't give me those crocodile tears, _dad_ ," Beca snaps bitterly, clenching her jaw from anger. Seeing this and how it can get worse, you rush to her side, squeezing her hand to calm her down and you feel her body relax by the immediate touch. "She's gone, _again_ , and now all of a sudden you care?" The words spoken are still rather harsh, but you can't even imagine what Beca would've done to her father if you weren't by her side keeping her calm due to her current emotional state.

It showed in the bathroom with Beca crying into your chest for an abnormally long amount of time that she is going through the grieving for possibly the first time, _ever,_ and it's all still very new to her.

Warren stays quiet, knowing anything he'd say would probably push Beca off the edge even more than they already have. The tears do fall, however, and even though it has no effect on Beca, it about breaks your heart to pieces. From what you saw the past interaction between Warren and Lou, whatever the divorce ended like had no effect on how they were acting together. It almost seem like they had a chance, you know?

"Anne was the one who told me," Warren finally speaks up and it's barely audible, but what you do catch is a mention of an _Anne_ girl who you've never heard of a day in your life.

"Well since we are all bonded by blood, I figured that much," Beca grumbles out, unfazed by the name like she knows of this woman. You, on the other hand, are clueless about what all this means. "I'll explain later," she says this to you and, great, _more_ secrets-hopefully not another _ex girlfriend. "_ But since you hated all of mom's practices with us, swearing that all this witch _nonsense_ was toxic, you would've been left in the dark anyways."

Ignoring the bitterness to Beca's words for now, "you should talk to her, Bec. She sounded worried and upset on the-" Warren has barely enough time to get this out before Beca cuts him off, pointing an accusing finger at his chest, her words piercing him like knives.

" _You_ of all people don't get to tell me what I _should_ or _shouldn't_ do," she warns harshly; you are starting to think whoever this Anne girl is really has a negative past with Beca due to her sudden rage at the mention of her name. "Anne left, she wanted no part in _any_ of this-no part of witchcraft, of mom, of me, or even the coven. It was her choice to leave, now she gets to deal with the consequences of not knowing happening inside our world."

"Not a chance," Beca finalizes sharply and Warren seems to drop the issue for now.

Eventually he leaves after realizing that breaking through to Beca is like trying to cut through stone with a plastic knife. He lingers a look over his shoulder to see if Beca will decide to be rational about this Anne chick, but only receives the closing of the front door before walking to his car, irritated by Beca's lack of communication but mostly sadness.

The two of you go back to Beca's room after making a pit stop in the kitchen to grab some ice waters. Beca grumbles mostly to herself all her thoughts filling her head regarding her father and why he seems to care all of a sudden, but never brings up the elephant in the room.

"Who's Anne?" You ask when it seems like Beca is avoiding the topic. She gives you a worried sigh, lowering her gaze to her lap where her hands are picking and twisting at each other.

It takes a moment, but she eventually reveals the answer to who this Anne chick is. "My sister."

Baffled.

You're straight up _baffled_ at this announcement that Beca has strangely-but also not uncommon for her to do so- forgotten to mention to you, _her girlfriend_ , that she has a sister. A sister that is apparently a witch like her, but wanted nothing to do with everything Lou was teaching her and refused to even be considered a witch.

"She's older than me by five years and while I wanted to become a witch like my mother, she wanted a normal life away from all this... _bullshit_. She's the most stuck up, self absorbed, rich girl that you'd assume she was born and raised in Buckhead."

That's an incredibly _true_ generalization. "Why didn't you tell me?" You ask quietly, taking a seat on the bed next to her and grab her closest hand to show that, yeah, you're hurt she couldn't have told you this, because you two share everything with each other, but are willing to find out why and be there for whatever the reason is.

"Because I haven't spoken to Anne since I was thirteen and she moved out of the house when my mom and dad got a divorce. For all I know she's married, has kids and is living in the suburban with her husband, living a witch free life," Beca grumbles weakly, obviously annoyed at herself for keeping it a secret from you. It's a lot to take in; Beca has a sister that you never knew about, which makes you wonder if she's as strong a witch as Lou and Beca are even if being a witch is the last thing on her mind.

But you get it.

You really do. It's been seven years since they last spoke, so Beca probably figured why bring up someone when they're basically cut out of her life anyways.

"I'm sorry," she looks so sad and ashamed of herself for keeping this a secret from you. The two of you swore to tell each other everything and so far you guys have, she just forgot to mention one _tiny_ detail.

You want her to understand that it's okay. "Don't be, I understand." So you tell her to stop beating herself up about it and give her a soft kiss to make her believe you're not upset. Why dwell on an issue that you'll never come across? "Now let's go to be. Tomorrow is going to be a _big_ , stressful day."

Beca nods her head weakly, but grabs your hand to pull you back down onto the bed when you move to stand up. "Once all this blows over or whatever, the...organization and I will give my mom a funeral and all that sad stuff." She snickers weakly, eyes staying glued to your conjoined hands until she lifts them to meet yours and you see the hurt and pain, but you also see acceptance. "Will you come with me? I-I...I could, like, go _alone_ or whatever, but I don't think I could do it without you," she admits softly.

You'd never want Beca to go through something like that alone and maybe she did in the past, a lot like how she live most her life, but not this time. From here on out, you guys do things together-you two are a team and _swear_ on any higher power out there that you'll be there, next to Beca, every step of the away until you physically cant anymore.

Then, you'll just have to be there spiritually.

"Of course."

* * *

 **Epilogue? Twist my arm, of course! ;)**

 **(YES I PICTURE BECA'S SISTER AS ANNE HATHAWAY B/C THEY BOTH OWN MY GAY ASS)**


	21. Chapter 21

**I'm so torn up I could cry...thank you to everyone who reviewed, favorited, followed this MASSIVE story; I'm like super proud of it and I hope you guys are too. There's of course a super bangin' soundtrack to every song mentioned and you can follow me on Tumblr! Again, thank you guys for everything- you all make my world go round :)**

 **Team-Noah Cyrus & MAX (Song)**

 **Here's to one last time...**

 **(I DO NOT OWN PITCH PERFECT NOR THE SONGS MENTIONED)**

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty One: Heaven Isn't Too Far Away**

Barden is like... _super_ famous.

And has been ever since last night when the repel spell was vanished and everyone from Barden returned clueless to the town, thus bringing in every known investigator, policeman, news channel, and a bunch of other important people to skyrocket Barden's campus capacity. To make this situation more suspicious was the army of clueless Bellas-some crying, some angry as they demanded to know what the hell just happened- came stumbling onto campus amd caught _everyone_ and their _mom's_ attention

 _Hence_ making Barden the top story to chat about and even the number one trend on Twitter.

Which is pretty _freaking_ neat minus the almost dying part.

After enjoying the night before all the madness starts, hang loose until all the adrenaline dwindles down, you, Aubrey and Stacie aren't far from the celebrity classification, either, which probably has something to do with the fact that you guys can actually _talk_ to all the news anchors, detectives, officials, firemen, _ecterura,_ and give them all the juicy details about what the **Hell** just happened in Barden.

But you guys don't.

Playing dumb and clueless about everything is what you guys do the second you step foot on campus this morning where everything is blocked off with tape and another second later get swarmed by literally _everyone_. Roads are clear, classes are cancelled and there's crowds upon _crowds_ in the streets, demanding answers about last night and this morning's discoveries, wondering, first of all, is it even _safe_ for anyone to be living here.

 _Now it is_ , you think to yourself when witnessing all the commotion that's borderline riot, but don't voice it out loud.

There's questions coming at you from every direction from stupid news people who won't leave you alone, " _are you okay_?" and " _can you tell us_ _who did this to you?_ " and from the medics " _Are you hurt? Do you feel any head pain or nausea?"_ and then from the detectives " _can you give us a description of the person who kidnapped you?"_

Yeah, short, criminally good looking, has a killer smirk, a Crest white type of smile and eyes so dang pretty you can't help but get lost in them every single time you look at her.

But you don't tell them this, of course.

What you are is **overwhelmed** by the sudden attention and all the questions that you can't really go in depth and answer for them.

Not like anyone could really _blame_ you, because telling the police that your sorority was taken over by two, _insanely_ scary black witches that wanted to become immortal and destroy the rest of the world while building a gigantic witch cult with all the Bellas sounds, excuse your language, _**ballshit lunatic.**_

And you _definitely_ can't come out and tell the whole world- _since that's what it feels like with so many people on campus-_ that your girlfriend, super famous music producer/fake freshman/white witch, _technically,_ was the one to take you hostage, along with your friends Stacie and Aubrey, who all happened to take part in a big witch war last night on Halloween, thus saving two hundred Bellas.

And _all_ of Barden.

No doubt would they bring you into an asylum for crazy people after hearing a story like that, but hearing nothing come from you guys is just as irritating.

Oh well.

Eventually, the excitement from it all will sizzle out, especially since everyone who went " _missing_ " has been found, so it doesn't leave much of a story other than _We Don't Really Know What The Fuck Just Happened, But All The Students Are Back And Safe._ Knowing this, all the 'missing posters' and search parties can finally end in peace, which _thank god_ , because seeing you face all around town was freaking you out.

"So, you have no understandings or memories of what took place the month that you were gone?"

You shake your head no, putting on your best dazed and confused presentation for the detectives currently interrogating you and have been since the moment you were spotted.

In fact, Stacie and Aubrey are here, too, at the station, getting thrown some more unanswerable questions everyone is dying to get answered, but they're just as lost as you are.

"And the ten boys who have returned and are staying at Hillside Psychiatric Hospital; one of the best in Atlanta...did you see them or were you _with_ any of them during your kidnapping?"

You push aside the sympathy card you feel for all the boys; they seem to have gotten the rough end of the stick when it came to being released from Gail. All the Bellas received was a lack of information about what had happened since August 27th, the last day they were _coherent_ before they turned into witch robots.

They also will _remain_ clueless about all the witches, magic, and voodoo that happened because Beca would rather them be rattled with confusion than know the truth-which would only bring the witch realm way too much attention.

For sorority girls, it's basically like waking up from a wild night of partying, except the blackout happened to be two months, not a night.

"Chloe?"

Lost in thought, the detective pulls you back to reality, remembering his question about the boys. "N-no..I d-did not. I...didn't know where I was, exactly," like you've been saying this past _hundred hours_ it seems since you've been at the police station. "It's all...just a big blur, to be honest."

The detective jots down some things on his notepad and your fingernails trace lines on the styrofoam cup filled with iced water they gave you once they threw you into a creepy, empty room to be questioned. You can't really make out what he's writing, or what he tells his partner-the other woman in the room that happens to be listening in on the questioning, but you know they're both equally tired and annoyed by the lack of information you're giving them.

The detective, John Smith, releases a heavy sigh and closes his folder while he shoves the pens into the inside of his jacket. Taking off his glasses to look at you, eyes drooping with exhaustion, "Well, since you've already been checked at the hospital and you've given us what you can, your parents are on their way and are free to go with them." Oh thank God; you've been harassed since early this morning and it's basically already dinner. It's about time they let you go. "We will be in touch with you, Chloe."

You fake a smile as best as you can; the thought of being back here creeps you out, but also why would they want to talk to a girl about the kidnappings who doesn't remember anything? People who are desperate, that's who. The both of you stand up from the metal chairs and you shake his outstretched hand before policemen are leading you back into the waiting room.

You thank them as you leave to sit down, though you are not _really_ thankful of being questioned all day when you could've been hanging out with Beca, who is back in the forest watching all investigators take a look at the scene where the Bellas came from, but will find nothing since the witch hunters cleaned up all the major evidence.

Surprisingly, Stacie is out of questioning by the time you make it out of the interrogation rooms, sitting by herself as her parents, you assume since they're _freakishly_ tall and both have amazing facial and body structures to match Stacie's, are talking to the police chief. You two share a relieved smile when she catches you walking up to join her in the empty seat besides her, figuring Aubrey must still be in questioning.

"How'd it go?" you ask cautiously in a hushed whisper, eyes glued to Stacie's parents and all the law enforcement officers around the room who are watching you two like hawks. Hopefully that goes away really soon, because the constant worry from everyone-people you don't even care about- is going to get old _real_ fast.

Stacie snickers under her breath. "Not as bad as I was expecting-though my mother almost hyperventilated from crying so hard." She smiles at the memory and you follow her eyes that land on her mother whose eyes remain bloodshot and swollen from crying. "They wanted me to go back home to Pennsylvania, but I told them no. Now, they're staying here in Georgia until they're _positive_ I'm capable of living on my own again and the trauma is gone."

You nod your head listening and think of how your parents are going to react. More than likely they're going to be treating you like they're walking on eggshells and your mom's paranoia is going to _skyrocket_. Honestly, you see them pulling the same card about going back home to Tampa where it's safe to take care of, but obviously you won't let that happen.

And really, is it safe _anywhere_?

"What I want to do is go back to how things were before all this bullshit started," Stacie mutters, irritation hidden under her tone and she looks exhausted. "I want to go back to school, spend time with my girlfriend and live a normal, college girl life. No witches, no curses or spells, just... _normal_."

Agreeing completely to Stacie's wants, "you and me both, sister." Also, it's your senior freaking year. No way are you going to throw all your hard work away and not graduate just because everyone is scared to leave you by yourself.

You understand their caution; you've been missing for a month without any recollection of what ' _happened_ ,' but it's over, done with, and now it's time to move on.

"Speaking of sister," Stacie dangles at the same time she stands up and sprints to the door where an equally tall and just as jaw dropping woman engulfs her in a tight hug.

 _Seriously, was the entire family tree just gifted with height and ridiculously good looks?_

After a moment of the two sisters getting reacquainted with each other, Stacie tugs her sister back over to you by the hand, tears evident in both their eyes, but they're the happy trails of tears. "Chloe, this is my older sister Sage," she introduces upbeat for the first time since last night.

Sage ( _don't make a spice joke, don't make a spice joke_ ) stretches her hand out and you happily shake it in return. "Nice to meet you."

"You're the other girl that was abducted, correct?" You nod your head at the curious raise to Sage's eyebrows. "Well, I'm so glad you two are safe." she smiles genuinely and refocuses back on Stacie. "Mom wouldn't call off a search party until she knew for a fact you were dead. Thankfully, that wasn't the case."

You or Stacie don't really know how to respond to this, so neither of you guys do.

After a moment of silence, Sage speaks backup, wiping her cheeks of the few tears spread across her cheek. "Want to tell me what _actually_ happened?" She's not here for games, it's evident in her tone and Stacie knows keeping up with the hoax she's been given to the police would be a lost cause.

At Stacie's reassurance that her sister is the closest person to her and deserves to know, you understand fully and give them a chance to catch up. It's up in the air if Sage would believe anything that Stacie admits to, unlike Aubrey who comes out moments later, overwhelmed and clearly stressed out when she goes on about how her parents are not only acting insane right now, but her father is wanting to send her to the psychiatric hospital that the boys are at for evaluation.

"Admitting to being in love with a girl will _definitely_ make him want to send me there more. My mother is the only sane person here right now."

"You don't have to tell them, honey," Stacie doesn't seem upset, but her face shows evidence of hurt by Aubrey's words.

Aubrey pinches at the bridge of her nose, scrunching her face. "No, I'm telling them," she retorts bluntly, like no one could change her mind. It brings a small smile to Stacie's face and yours as well hearing Aubrey's level of seriousness. "Just...I need to give them time. There's so much going on and he's probably overwhelmed."

And Stacie understands when Aubrey promises to tell them both once things calm down, just as long as they're still together that's what truly matters.

You allow the two to catch up privately, as well as the warm introductions going on between Aubrey and Sage. There's a couple of chairs in the corner of the room that you scout out, wanting to get some alone time to yourself in silence before your parents show up and chaos kicks back up. You don't get much quiet time to gather yourself, wishing that Beca was here with you before a flock of redheads burst through the doors connected to the station, scanning the room until they find you in the back.

From there, is kind of sporadic.

Mother is hysterical by the time she gets to the police station as she drags along your father who isn't nearly as bad, but still almost breaks your body in a hug. You then get a thorough examination for any signs of injuries-even though you explain to your mother that your _fine_ , better than fine and the EMTs already checked you head to toe _multiple_ times this morning.

Hell, you have bruises all over your arms from being poked with IVs and are surprised you have any blood left in your body from all the tests you had to go through. Though you were minorly panicking when the doctors were checking your blood to run tests and see if you were drugged because of the potion Beca made you drink.

But luckily your blood came back normal with no signs of being drugged or, in your case, fixed by magical witch potion.

"Oh my God-Honey, are you okay?!" Your mom frantically brushes all over your body with her fingers and lingers her touch over the newly added scars and bruises you have patched on your body. Her thumb drags over one scar in particular, the one on your forehead, "who _did_ this to you!?"

Ignoring this question that is playing like a broken record from the amount of times you heard it in the last _hour_ and you're seriously getting sick of, "I need to tell you guys something," you whisper this quietly, hoping not to attract any attention to the officers who are roaming around the station. "But not here."

"You're gone- _missing_ for a month and you're acting this nonchalant about it?" Your mother is upset; you hear it in her voice and see it in her tears streaming down her face, but you know your parents deserve to know what _really_ happened. "They didn't... _touch_ you, did they?"

You roll your head back with a loud groan; this is another question you are sick of being asked. "No, I'm _fine_ ," you assure positively and grasp your hands on either side of your mother's arms. You glance at your dad, who looks just as upset, but isn't being as vocal as your mom is _(which, thank God!)_ "Once I'm able to leave here without any eyes on me, I'll explain everything, but until then know that I was _safe_."

Your mom seems hesitant to believe you, worry still lacing her bloodshot, swollen eyes, but you give her a look that lets her know you mean it. That you'll explain **everything** to her from the exact moment you started your fall semester till now, hoping it will clear up some of these questions floating around inside her head.

And also make her understand why you can't possibly explain any of this to the cops because it will just make you sound like you're on drugs.

Her face falls at the same time a single tear rolls of he bridge of her nose and hits the white tile belonging to the police station. "Once we heard about the search party after one of your professors called in a missing person, we thought...we thought you were _dead_."

Your heart takes a brutal hit by the word and how the assumption physically pains both your parents by the immediate tears, even after finding out you are okay. Of course, you wanted to assure them that everything was under control and you weren't exactly missing and taken by Barden's _psycho_ _rapist_ the rumors mustered up about all the abductions. It killed you in more ways than one to know how bad your parents must have been suffering during the time you were gone; the lack of communication and how you dropped off the face of the earth.

"Then everyone was brought into questioning; all your friends, ex boyfriends, _us_ , Brad." Okay, this was information that you didn't know was happening, but it makes sense.

"I'm so sorry," is all you can respond back with, your own tears making an appearance, but you squeeze at your mother's hand reassuringly, reach out for your father's, who is breaking bit by bit, and swear to tell them everything and to stop worrying.

Because you're _safe_.

* * *

"How'd they take it?" Beca asks cautiously as she pours you some tea from the stove, now back at the cabin, enjoying something soothing after the chaotic day you just endured. She picked you up after explaining everything start to finish to your parents and to say that it was difficult getting it through their heads that witches exist would be a **large** understatement.

"Honestly, they thought I was crazy," you mutter quietly, hands rubbing circles on your temples in hope to ease the throbbing you feel against your skull. You give Beca a soft ' _thank you_ ,' as you take the warm tea, as well as a light kiss to the forehead before continuing on with the story. "I mean, it sounds _ridiculous_ -the witches, the war against witches and witch hunters and _everything_ else. Would you, hypothetically, believe me if I came out and told you witches exist?"

Beca shrugs her shoulders, pouring herself a cup of tea before taking a seat beside you. "Well, _yeah_ , since I am a witch."

" _Hypothetically_ , babe!" You smack her in the thigh, but not too hard to make her spill her tea. "Like, if you were my sister and had no idea what happened in the last few months, would you believe me?"

"Gross, don't say that, especially considering the amount of _stuff_ we do together."

You chuckle at the scrunch of disgust on Beca's face, scooting your chair closer to hers so you could be able to put your feet on her lap. Though your wounds have healed nicely because of the potion, there's still some internal damage and soreness going on. Sighing contently when Beca's fingers start to dig into the arch of your foot (the activities from last night really took a toll on your body-and not the _good_ kind of activities) you think about your previous conversation with your family.

"But I think it went good," you return back to the previous conversation, relaxing under Beca's massaging _expertise_.

Overall, it wasn't as bad as you expected when your family agreed to getting a late lunch once you were free to go. Minus the raging headache you now have, the millions of questions you had to answer and the _extreme_ mood swings from your mother once figuring out you kept this all a secret and, " _I was worried sick about you, but you were playing hooky with a witch hunter who is a witch and your girlfriend?!"_ the conversation went rather well.

Your brothers totally think of you as a badass now, which is great because maybe next time they decide to team up on you, they'll remember just what you can do with your new, _advance_ self defense moves and newly trained skill to handle a gun. They didn't believe you at first, but once you showed them what was in the glovebox belonging to your newly upgraded vehicle since the last time you saw your family, they about fainted when they were greeted with weapons you never had before.

And let's not forget their reaction when you drove them to the burger joint for lunch in that brand new, Dodge Challenger which now belongs to you that they have never seen you drive before and not the cute, ruby red slug bug that is now in the pound.

Let's just say they were equally _envious_ as they were impressed.

" _Your girlfriend bought you a car?" Your mom was flabbergasted, same with your brother and father once the vehicle was in view._

" _She fixed up this car and is now letting me drive it," you correct and ignore your mother going off about how while she was worried sick, you were out being Vin Diesel and driving nice sport cars._

"Once the initial, _oh my God my daughter is delirious from trauma,_ wave passed and how genuinely serious I was acting, they started to believe me-though they were still hesitant. I still think they're loads confused and scared about what happened. It's going to be like walking on eggshells with them until this whole thing blows over, but I think they're just relieved that I'm alive," you explain to Beca, leaning your head back to enjoy the sensation Beca's _magical_ fingers are able to bring onto your foot. "I can only imagine how Aubrey's parents are acting. Last I heard from Aubrey she said they were flying back to South Carolina for a conference when she assured them she was alright. It's just for tomorrow and then they'll be back the next day to check up on her."

"They are for sure the ones who will be harder to convince when realizing who their daughter is," Beca says with a chuckle and makes a joke about Aubrey being sent to an institution for crazies that causes you to smack her in the arm and demand for her to take it back because it's _exactly_ what Aubrey's dad wants to do. "I bet they aren't too fond of me, taking that I technically kidnapped you. Am I shunned from hanging out with you now? Are we going to have to sneak around to be together?"

You ignore the tingle of excitement you feel at the idea of sneaking around with Beca-the thoughts are more than thrilling, but not the case here. "Actually, they want to meet you even more now than they did earlier once I explained you were the one to teach me how to shoot and basically saved my life." Beca full on chokes on her tea, sputtering out a strangled ' _are you serious_?' that causes you to erupt with laughter. "Oh come on! They aren't too bad, baby."

Beca coughs up some more tea that happened to fall down the wrong pipe and disagrees when she's able to speak again. "Not when they know I'm a witch, Chlo!"

"I said you were a _good_ witch! A witch who saved my life, I might add, and not the wicked witch of the west!"

"Oh yeah, cause finding out your daughter is dating a witch is a _great_ first impression."

Shaking your head at the sarcasm and unnecessary dramatics towards the situation, " _Sack up_ , dude!" you use Beca's words against her, grinning ear to ear when she rolls her eyes and blows her nose from the whole tea incident. "They're actually on their way right now…"

Beca's eyes bulge to the point of bursting and you bite your tongue not to laugh when you hear her whole respiratory system start to fail. "Shut the **fuck** up."

Eventually the laughs sneak out, and Beca looks as if she wants to strangle you for finding any humor in the situation. "I'm just kidding," you admit through the laughs that have now turned to soft chuckles and Beca's body visibly relaxes. "They're back in Tampa, but they _do_ want to meet you-everyone does. I told them we need some time to just... _be together_ without all the witch issues and catch a break after everything. So you got until Thanksgiving to _wow_ the parents."

Beca doesn't exactly respond back to this with actual words and instead just grumbles a series of noises to herself that makes you smile. Now that everything is finally over, its feels like the start of something new-though you've always felt this unexplainable, tingly feeling with Beca and all you have to blame is the amount of love you have for the girl.

Now, you get to spend the night with your girlfriend, sleep in her arms and wake up in the morning not afraid of waking up in a nest about ready to get burned alive, or the constant fear that someone is watching you. Going out in public like a normal couple is now a _thing_ , which is something you've been counting down the days for and you get to show her off like the trophy girlfriend she truly is.

In fact, now that you think about it…

"Can I borrow your laptop?" you ask all of a sudden, cutting through the comfortable silence in the kitchen that surrounds you and Beca. "Mine is still at the Bellas' house and since the entire place is getting searched top to bottom, inch by _inch_ , I don't have it. You also need to get me a new iPhone since you broke mine," you remind jokingly but also not jokingly because you're a college girl.

Your phone is your _life line_ ; it's already been hard enough these past months without it.

Beca doesn't seem too concerned about your outburst, or why you need it all of a sudden and pats your feet to move them off her lap so she can get up and walk to the counter where her computer sits. You watch her walk back to her spot and hand you the device without a question while you click onto the safari browser before typing a well known website into the search bar.

"You checking in on what's the new sitch, Kim Possible?"

You laugh loud at Beca's guess. The reappearance of the missing ten boys and you, Stacie and Aubrey not only brought a lot of attention to Barden, but also a plethora of conspiracy stories about what _really_ happened. Though most the stories are wrong by a long shot, it's kind of interesting to see what everyone can come up with in those creative heads of theirs.

"No exactly, but last time I heard it was aliens," you finally reply, giggling at the way Beca's eyes stretch.

" _Oh_ , abductions and experiments? That's a new one."

"Yeah, which is probably why I got poked so much today; the doctors wanted to figure out if we were the next science experiments filled with toxic waste or about to grow a third arm."

You feel Beca's eyes watching everything happening on the screen, interested in what you're doing, especially when Facebook pops up and you log into your profile. Notifications on top of notifications are the first thing you notice when your page loads and you know this attention is something you are going to have to get use to now that you've been on the news and have an entire story written about Barden's " _kidnapper_."

Ignoring all the messages, wall posts, missing person photos and things you've been tagged in while you were away from all social media, you click into your profile and start to update your status. There's also _a ton_ of messages that ask about what has happened since you figure the news spread like wildfire and anybody keeping up with the Barden story knows you're alive and back, but you skip over them for now.

" _Please_ tell me you're not about to post that you're drinking maple apple cider tea like one of those annoying people who constantly updates the world on what they're doing."

You snicker at Beca, not admitting out loud that you _were_ one of those girls, sadly, but not anymore and continue to edit a few things before posting what you want to share with the world. Once you're happy with your updated info and Beca is still clueless as to what you're doing, you hit _post_ and it's the most refreshing feeling

"I've wanted to do that for _so_ long," you breathe, emphasizing on how long you've wanted to show the world just how lucky you are. Beca doesn't have a Facebook when you remember her claiming that it is for " _old people_ ," but this little change will suffice.

"In a relationship?" Beca reads off the new post like a question, amusement hidden in her tone. She hooks an arm behind the lower part of your back and kisses up your neck to your ear. "I think I'm jealous."

Trying not to shiver at her voice now vibrating your ear and raising all the hair on your body, "y-you...should be; she's pretty _fucking_ amazing."

"Oh is she now?"

You decide not to inflate Beca's already boosted ego anymore than you've done and instead opt for turning your head just ever so slightly to catch her lips on yours. It's soft at first; you savor the taste of maple on Beca's tongue and feel that tingle in your gut when she slows down the kiss, giving your lip and long, languid suck to strike your stomach with a big ball of heat.

When you think about how your relationship with Beca from here on out is going to change, all in the best ways, you kiss her harder, emotions bouncing all over the place and you practically sitting in her lap from the dire _need_ to feel more from her touch.

You two no longer have to keep your relationship a secret and can be public with the world.

Now with that weight lifted off your shoulders, you can't wait to open up the rest of the doors your life has to bring and open them with Beca.

The absolute **love** of your life.

"Not that... I don't want to...I really…. _really_ do- but you should...rest," you mumble across Beca's lips that don't seem to ease up, even with you talking, so most of your mumbles come out in heavy breathing and sighs.

Beca knows the way she's kissing you, slow enough to taste all the flavors of the tea in her mouth and slow enough to twist a hot knot inside your stomach, is your weakness. It's _distracting_ and you tend to lose a lot of arguments when she kisses you like this and you know you should probably stop, yet you don't even try to pull away and instead moan low into her mouth, lifting your hands to fist into her hair.

"Every bone in my body is telling me to rest, but my heart is not a bone," Beca's voice is a lot rougher than it was before, which doesn't help your case to stop... _this_ before it gets too out of hand. "And neither is my vagina."

This, surprising as ever, causes you to pull away and give Beca a puzzled, yet comical look. "Technically it _is_ a bone-the pubic bone, actually, and there's also the pelvic bone and-"

Beca interrupts you with a guttural groan at the same time she stands up from the chair and picks you up with her. "Shut up and _fuck_ _me_ , Red," she doesn't really ask if you want to do this, but orders you salaciously instead and you squeak at how Beca's hands are holding you up by palms to _ass_.

Like, _each cheek_ , and it's really doing something to you and your sanity.

As well as the rather _lewd_ demand.

Frazzled by the movement and how your legs are now wrapped around Beca's waist and your arms are hooked around her neck as she walks you both out of the kitchen with that dirty smirk of hers, you're stuck between a rock and hard place. Obviously, her actions are showing she gained all of her strength back and as well as her hormones, so who are you to deny the girl of her wants?

* * *

 **Beca's Birthday**

Long story short, Barden is slowly getting back to how things were prior to the whole witch deal. Curfews are lifted, as well as the amount of security posted up at each corner on campus and classes return to normal. There's still caution about going out alone into Barden's forest, the rumors about aliens has really skyrocketed to the point where most people believe that's what really happened to you guys, which brought a lot of stares from strangers around campus.

Of course everyone is still skittish about everything, including your parents who now know the _real_ truth.

You had to keep a journal and write in it for a few days until the psychiatrist the school hired was convinced nothing was wrong. You talked about how you wished people would stop looking at you like you're a fragile piece of glass that could break at any second and how all you wanted was to go back to school without being monitored by undercover detectives.

After putting your foot down to literally _everyone_ who was harassing you about how you felt and what was going on inside your head, you got to resume classes like normal and things were finally coming together. Stacie and Aubrey's life also seemed to be getting back on track and Stacie has officially moved herself into the Bellas house which is in dire need of a makeover.

Thank you Gail for the permanent black licorice smell and eerie _grossness_ that she left behind.

"You wanna what now?" Stacie asks with an eyebrow raised and you _know_ she is being a brat and only wants you to turn beet red again when you shyly mutter your plea for help.

The two of you are back at the Bellas' house, minus Aubrey, who is stuck in lab for Organic Chemistry while you two are making a small afternoon snack in the kitchen after class. As for the Bellas, most still have no recollection of what happened during the time Gail and Kommissar ruled the house. They do, however, remember the witches-though they don't remember them as _witches,_ but instead the new house mothers.

You try not to let the words _evil bitches_ slip out in description of the two and remain just as clueless as they are.

You muster up some random assumption that they left, probably the same reason why Roxy left (though you know the truth) and they seem to believe it. Emily even says, "I'm glad they're gone! They gave me the creeps !" when falling on the topic of the house mothers departure from the house.

" _Oh you have no idea, Em_ ," you keep to yourself; Emily was always your favorite despite her trying to kill you **multiple** times. Something about her innocent, bean like personality makes you want to pinch the girl's cheeks and hug her and never let go.

Anyways, the fact that the Bellas seem to be going through some weird, brief amnesia after being on the succubus rum for so long, it's difficult for them not to remember anything. You actually _prefer_ them not to remember much of what happened. How they ended up in the middle of the forest on Halloween, dressed up in creepy, black gowns that _screamed_ occult, and were surrounded by a ton of witch hunters carrying weapons.

It'd be way too hard to try and pretend like this never happened and probably give the detectives a _damn_ heart attack from all the information when they are brought in for questioning.

But luckily, their concern over the lack of memory is temporary and soon enough, everyone gets back to living their life with a small amount of amnesia, just the way you remember it before Gail and Kommissar came and ruined everything.

And this is only _four_ days after the blood moon, which is impressive.

 _Now that you guys are caught up, where were we..._

"You heard me the first time I asked! Don't make me say it again," you pout, adding a stomp to your foot as you cut up the veggies and pour some ranch as a dip. Stacie is staring from where she stands beside you at the counter and without tearing your focus off the vegetables, you can see her smirk _doubling_ in size.

"I'll analyze it then."

You really wish she wouldn't, but does that stop her from giving you a play by play of the entire conversation? No it does not.

"You, Chloe Beale, want to do something special for Beca for her birthday-or should I say _give_ her something special." Stacie nudges her shoulder into yours playfully and it makes you misscut the carrot in a different size from the rest which inflamed your OCD. "And you're asking me, Stacie Conrad, to go with you to an adult store this afternoon to find said _something_ to give her?"

She's exactly correct, but all you can reply back with is a deadpanned, "I hate you," as you drop the knife on the cutting board and turn to face your smug friend. When you catch the wiggling of Stacie's eyebrows that make the situation so much worse, you take a carrot and throw it at her. "I _really_ hate you."

"Are we going to buy some porn, because I know you're, like, _super_ into that."

"Did I mention that I hate you? _A lot_?" you ask with a blank expression and a cross to your arms above your chest, wondering when the day will come where everyone (Stacie and Aubrey) would just forget about that time you got caught watching porn in your girlfriend's bed.

 _IT HAPPENED, WE ALL GET IT._

 _MOVE ON._

"You don't hate me because if you did, you wouldn't be asking me to go with you to an adult store to buy something special for you and your _lover_." You cringe at the title Stacie just used when referring to Beca. "Which the answer is _yes_ , by the way."

You perk up at Stacie's agreement to tag along, though she could've just said that from the start instead of sitting through the embarrassment you just endured. When talking to Aubrey about your little plan for this evening when you caught her on the campus green, all she had to say was "ask Stacie to go; she'll love it."

"You have sex once and all of a sudden you're the kinky, energizer bunny," Stacie adds with a chuckle, muttering something under her breath about being impressed, you think, but whatever.

"Date a witch with an impressive amount of stamina and you'd be acting the same way," you admit shamelessly as you release a heavy sigh, as if just _talking_ about sex with your girlfriend is draining. "But isn't that the point of it all?" Stacie glances at you from the kitchen table, giving you a sideways look, waiting for you to continue. "Find someone who you can learn new things with? Evolve together and find out your likes and dislikes?"

Stacie nods her head, taking a bite out of her ham and cheese sandwich she put together and you can tell by the swoon to her body and sparkle to her eyes that she's thinking about Aubrey.

"Absolutely," she agrees through a mouthful of food. "Like...yesterday, Aubrey and I had sex in her car-which, by the way, _super_ uncomfortable. I highly don't recommend it."

"Too late," you mutter to Stacie and hide the smirk when all the girl can do as a response is gape with a mouthful of food and you notice how blindsighted you took her. "But that's in the past, it's something neither of us liked particularly much, so I want to try something _new_."

"What happened to the candles?"

"Wait...wha-the... _candles_? You pause for a moment, trying to fully understand how Stacie knows of this _private_ moment spent with Beca, but then you remember you two were **unexpectedly** interrupted. "Jade, that gossipy bitch," you conclude with a hiss to your tone. Can **no one** keep anything to themselves anymore?

"Actually it was Luke," Stacie corrects matter-of-factly and either way, _the cat_ _is out of the bag now._ "But doesn't matter. Finish eating your grass and we will go to Atlanta before Beca gets back from Buckhead."

You roll your eyes, scoffing. "It's a _salad_." And poke around at the lettuce and vegetables while Stacie just waves off your response.

 **Six Hours Later…**

"There's more surprises?" Beca replies breathless as she leans up on her elbows in her bed, lips swollen, hair flipped over to one side of her head, chest and cheeks flushed and eyes the color of midnight. "You already cooked me an amazing Mexican dinner, customized a brand new butterfly knife for me and are dressed like _that_." She points with her eyes over to your red lingerie corset and thigh high stockings you also bought with Stacie during your guys' little _shopping spree._ "Anymore and you may kill me, _mi amor._ "

You toss Beca a wink over your shoulder where you're rummaging through your drawers and explain that the birthday girl should always be spoiled on her birthday and enough is _never_ enough (also try not to swoon into a puddle at the Spanish and the way Beca is eating the little bit of clothing you have on with her eyes).

Because, as special as a day this is ( _Beca was born, so obviously it's the best freaking day ever_ ), she should be treated like a queen.

Actually, everyday she should be treated like a queen and you do ( _in more ways than one, if you catch my drift_ ), but today is _her_ day, so even though she claims that this is the best birthday she has ever had, you warn her that it's only about to get _better_. It's also a couple days pass your guy's two months, so a celebration is needed for both causes.

Landing on Beca's last gift, "okay, so today I got us something." You have the gift hidden behind your back after finding it in the top drawer and turn to face your half naked girlfriend who's leaned up on her elbows, watching you intently and looking so unintentionally sexy that it's difficult not to pounce on her. "It might be a little… _strange_ and kind of _ridiculous_ looking, but I think it will be fun to try."

Beca raises a single brow, amusement still highlighting her features when she waves you on to continue with your grand reveal. When you tell her that she needs to close her eyes and she hesitantly obliges, you skip over to the bed, knees land on either side of her thighs, straddling the girl and you eagerly tell her to open her eyes.

Nothing but excitement is shown across Beca's face when she's greeted with the toy held in the palms of your hands like a prize just won and all you feel in the moment is pride and elation when she takes the toy into her own hands, curiosity only growing. You even think her eyes get _darker_ , which only amplifies your previous grown arousal from making out higher and you're entire body feels likes it's running a fever.

"You never seize to amaze me, Red," Beca says adoringly with a chuckle and leans her body up, momentarily forgetting about the toy to kiss languidly up your chest, then slowly around your neck, landing on your mouth at the same time she unties the strings connected to your complicated corset. "You're my greatest gift."

You melt at the words that hit you full force and sweetness of it all until the mood shifts in the same way Beca's kisses morph to slow and passionate, to _hungry_ and _urgent_ as she peels the lace corset off your body. Her movements become impatient as she struggles to get the corset off your chest where all the fun is at when the garter straps are still connected to your stockings, so you give her a hand when standing up, pushing each one slowly down the length of your leg while Beca watches from the bed.

"So complicated, but so _fucking_ sexy," Beca pretty much growls this as her eyes are fixated on the little show you're giving her, stripping off each piece of lace until you're fully naked and do it in sync with the beat of Chris Isaak's "Wicked Game" playing off Beca's speakers.

You giggle sweetly at the trueness of the statement; Beca should've seen you trying to get _on_ the lingerie. Now that was a struggle that no girl should face, but the reward of having sex with your wonderful girlfriend was all the motivation you needed. "Stacie demanded for me to get that one since it matched my hair." You drag a hand through your hair when Beca beckons you over with a finger, the pull magnetic and you land yourself straddling her lap once again.

Beca takes the newly open invitation and squeezes both hands against each of your breasts, curving up a coy smirk at the way your head falls into your chest from the sensation. "Remind me to thank Stacie later." She nips at your neck, continuing to grope your chest and pinch at your nipples for you to emit several throaty moans from. "So the toy…" she dangles the sentence, open for you to fill in the rest.

"I want...y-you to use...it on...m-me," you are able to get out breathlessly as you clench your stomach and bite your bottom lip in pleasure at the way Beca's lips have now gone to work, sucking around taut nipples and sending your hormones into overdrive.

Beca doesn't question your want, but smiles into your chest where her face is pressed and in a fluid motion, flips you over to your back as she works to get the harness on comfortably. You lean up to watch keenly, but it's evident that Beca is having her own difficulties putting on the toy, but still looks hot as Hell struggling through it.

"I've never done this before," she admits laughing, not embarrassed, but amused at the effort it obviously takes to get the toy on. There's a warmth knowing that, again, this is a first for you both; you were a little worried that Beca, because she's more _experienced_ than you, might have tried this before.

But luckily you're as clueless as she is and it's fucking adorable.

You bite your bottom lip, preventing to allow your smile to get any larger than it already is and asks if Beca needs your help. She gladly accepts your offer with an airy chuckle, actually seems appreciative that you take charge, but the harness is like building a rocket ship type of difficult.

"How do I look?" Beca raises her arms up, body on full display with a newly added appendage you two worked together on and you blush _so hard_ when admitting that she looks beautiful, then cringing at how cheesy an _unsexy_ that just was.

"It fits you perfectly, baby." You are rewarded with Beca's infamous eye roll tagged along with a cocky smirk you'd want nothing more than to kiss right off. Seeing the new addition to her paleness, impressive muscles and scars covering her body only makes you feel hot all over; your thunderous heartbeat and newly glistened skin on your inner thighs are indicators of just how much the toy fits her.

And how keen you are to test it out.

Once you two get situated after all clothes are discarded; Beca hovering on top of you between your spread thighs, you laying down flat, head resting on one of Beca's pillows, she asks if you're ready. Out of nerves and anticipation, you lift your arms under Beca's where they rest at either side of your head to keep herself up and squeeze at her shoulders, nodding your head and biting your lip.

"Go really slow," you instruct nervously without helping it and your breathing becomes laboured. "Like really, _really_ slow," you emphasize, causing her to laugh and you know you've already layered the violet, silicone toy with the flavored lube Stacie picked out ( _freaking watermelon!_ ) multiple times for the least amount of pain possible for you.

Although you are more than _ready_ ; the thrill of what's about to happen and the previous foreplay with Beca two, _huge_ factors that got you ready for this experience to make the lube pretty much unnecessary, but the fear is still there.

However, Beca's so gentle and caring with your body when she knows you need it, but can flip the switch and can turn you on quicker than a light switch, which makes anything that you are trying to engage with Beca a comfortable, safe environment for you.

Beca places light kisses all over your face; your forehead, either cheek, the tip of your nose to make you giggle and a soft, passionate one over your lips, assuring that you're in charge tonight. If you want to stop, or if anything hurts too much, then she'll stop, but she wants to make sure you're fully comfortable and enjoying everything and it's the damn sweetest thing she's said all night.

"I love you, Beca," you breathe with a lazy smile, looking up into those steely blues, her nose just brushing over yours. Instinctively, your grips tighten over Beca's shoulders when you feel the tip of the toy graze against your entrance, anxious, excited and eager all at the same time.

"I love you too, Chloe," Beca returns with just as much sincerity, sliding the toy in a _painfully_ slow speed, **literally** , through your folds, but you focus on Beca and her eyes, and all the love she is showing for you, not the stretch that-you're not going to lie- fucking hurts. "I love you so _fucking_ much."

It's embarrassing not to start laughing when you have to tell Beca to stop so you can take a break, a breather, but she promises that you have nothing to be embarrassed about. She even makes a joke about needing to go back to the gym because the positioning is already making her legs burn, which makes you laugh even harder, but nothing out of the ordinary.

Sex with Beca always leads to laughing, which makes you realize that you have found the one person who you can spend the rest of your life with, not wanting to have sex with anybody else.

And after awhile of your body getting use to everything; Beca making sure to ask you consistently if you're okay or if she is hurting you and should slow down. Through all the love and affection Beca is putting into this love making, creating an enjoyable moment for the both of you, it doesn't take long for the uncomfortable thrusts to become pleasurable.

And your groans quickly turn to breathy moans you release quietly into Beca's ear where you're clinging to her body for dear life, praising her how good she feels.

"Don't stop... _please_ don't stop." Breathlessly, you pant your plea into the crook of Beca's neck, nails clawing into her back to the point where it might be hurting her, but she never stops, even when she falls out of sync with your hips. In fact, Beca's rhythm becomes faster when you cross your ankles at the backs of her thighs while parting your own to create more space, amping her to go faster.

To go _deeper_.

She feathers kisses over your shoulder and caresses your body like she's touching a diamond and something incredible happens as the pressure in your lower stomach becomes tighter and tighter. All of a sudden you two are on an exotic beach; your back is now pressed up against warm beads of sand and behind Beca as she continues her thrusts is the ocean, waves crashing into shore underneath the most majestic casting sunset you've ever seen.

There's no one else in this new reality Beca has created for you two. Just the peaceful sounds of the waves, Beca's heavy breaths and grunts emitted occasionally against your pulse where her face and mouth is pressed against and the unique smell of fresh saltwater to fill your senses.

And hit all at once by how romantic this moment is and how Beca makes every time feel like your first-more perfect than the last- your body trembles off the edge with a silent scream into the sunset and Beca holds onto you protectively until she knows your violent shakes are finished.

* * *

One Week Later...

" _Chloe! Beca's here!"_

From where your face is glued to the inside of your school book now that professors are starting to treat you like an _actual_ student, human being and not a piece of glass, which means homework galore to catch up, you bounce up with excitement hearing Emily's voice call you from downstairs. Closing your book shut, knowing that now Beca's here, the _last_ thing on your mind will be Russian Literature on a Friday afternoon, you basically teleport downstairs to greet your girlfriend like a kid running to the tree on a Christmas morning.

Sporting a massive grin that touches your ears, you catapulte yourself onto Beca when you spot the girl, not realizing how much you've missed her that past four days she's been gone for work back in Los Angeles and suffocating her with all your love. Yes, _it hasn't been that long, Chloe,_ and pump the brakes before you explode from being too clingy, but Beca is like your lifeline, no joke.

You two have a special and very deep connection that is different from any of your previous relationships.

Without her, everything just feels off and extremely boring, you have to admit, _so sue me for missing my girlfriend._

"You _guys_ ," Emily gushes from the side when you pepper kisses all over Beca's scrunched up face; she claims that she still isn't a fan of all the public human affection, but by the way she's trying to fight off a smile and has her arms wrapped tightly around your waist, you'd have to disagree. "Can you two stop being precious before I die from an overload of cuteness?"

You pull away from Beca after giving her one last kiss on the lips to look at Emily, who you forgot was even around you guys, but keep your arms lock around Beca's shoulders. "Couldn't help myself. I missed this one." You pinch at Beca's cheek and, yes, you realize you two are nauseating, but, no, you do not care one bit.

Beca rolls her eyes with a snort, but you know she missed you just as much when you remember the random pictures and songs she'd send you throughout the day, claiming ' _this one reminded me of you,'_ or, ' _just because_.' Maybe she missed you even more, but you highly doubt that's possible.

"We are going to head up to my room. You need help with dinner?" You lace your fingers with Beca's, about to pull her towards the staircase.

Emily has a dopey smile so big on her face that you think it might be permanent. It's weird to think that this is the same, loveable, caring, sweeter than sugar girl who tried to _kill_ you on multiple occasions in the past.

But you don't tell her that.

"Aubrey said she'd help and then said Stacie would, too, whether she liked it or not, so I'm good for now," she tells you sweetly through her grin- _seriously, does she ever stop smiling?_ Also, you're glad she doesn't need help; you mentally cursed yourself for offering because Beca's here and you plan on making up for lost time which could take all night and making dinner wasn't how you planned on doing it.

"Alright, we'll be upstairs if you need us!" you chirp, already halfway up the stairs, praying that the girl doesn't need help later on. There's a handful of girls living in this house and though you're the best cook, Jessica or Ashley take the place right behind you.

"Good seeing you, kid," Beca salutes the younger girl off as you practically rip her arm off in the process of getting to your room. "It's definitely different walking through the front door rather than sneaking through your window. I kinda liked it better that way."

"Feel free to break into my room whenever you want, baby," you say half listening while tugging Beca in tow to your room, only one thing on your mind at the moment.

Making it there, you kick the door shut and waste no time before connecting your mouth to Beca's, kissing her in ways that would _for sure_ scar pure little Emily for the rest of her innocent, young life and in ways that are _definitely_ considered sinful. Beca doesn't seem to mind as she kisses you back just as hard when she throws you into the closed door; your back takes quite the hit, but it doesn't matter when Beca claws desperately at the backs of your gym shorts

Admittedly, nothing really matters when Beca does that thing with her tongue that makes your kneecaps buckle and your eyes roll to the back of your head.

"So I take it you missed me?"

You can taste the amusement when you swipe your tongue across that dirty smirk of hers, but you don't answer. Instead, you peel off Beca's leather jacket that Aubrey was able to sew up nicely where it was cut, pushing it down her arms to land on the floor by her feet and push at her chest blindy until she collapses on your bed with you following on top.

"Does _this_ answer your question?"

In a swift motion, you lift your upper body up from where you're straddling Beca, halting the kiss and cross your arms at the hem of your tank top to pull the material over your head. "And I take it you missed me?" Now clad in only a black lacy bra as you hover over your girlfriend after tossing the shirt mindlessly, you want to giggle at how close Beca is to drooling by her gaping mouth. "Especially _these_?"

"Oh _fuck_ _yes_ I did," Beca practically whimpers this out, eyes glued to your chest as if she's looking at a million dollars _cash_ , or a suitcase full of diamonds. "I really, _really_ did." She reaches her hands out to remove that last piece of clothing on your chest, but you grab onto both her wrists and pin them above her head on the bed, preventing her from doing so.

"I have a proposition for you." You release Beca's hands to sit up straight again, but her hands remain above her head. Her lips are swollen and her eyes are _black_ and it's taking every bit of you not to attack this gorgeous specimen between your thighs, but there's things to discuss.

"Since the last rush for the Bellas was _awful_ and most the girls who pledged the first time didn't _actually_ want to be a Bella, Aubrey and I have decided to create another rush happening tomorrow to get more pledges. And now that the campus has loosened up and things are starting to get back to normal, we figured a nice, regular party with regular booze would be nice for the students-Lord _knows_ we need it."

Beca cocks her head sideways, small twitch at the corner of her mouth. "Let me guess, you wanna go?" You hum a yes, curving up a smile you intend on making bigger, just in case Beca decides to be difficult. "Is the theme beach party again?"

"Actually the theme is decades-Jessica came up with it and I went ahead and penciled in 50s for us," you inform, beaming. "That is _if_ you wanna be my plus one."

"And if I say no?" Beca taunts smugly, head still looking at you sideways with her chocolate locks fanned out above your pillow and you hate how adorable she looks.

Mischievously, "then _these_ girls will be off limits." You give Beca a show and wiggle your chest side to side before lifting up your hand and this time wiggle your fingers. "And _these_ will be keeping me a lot of company," you say biting your lip to bite back a smile when Beca's face twists as if what she's hearing is physically painful.

"Threatening sex are we? You're _evil_ , Red."

You sneak out a playful giggle, using your fingernails on one hand to trace underneath Beca's shirt across her stomach. Wondering why the Hell she still has a shirt on, you tug the girl up by the v-cut along her neckline before the clothing joins your shirt somewhere around the room when you toss it carelessly. You then push her back down by a hand to the chest, destined to rock her world, but _after_ she agrees to going to the Bellas' rush 2.0.

"If we go, you bet your bottom dollar that- _hey_." You snap your fingers in front of Beca's face before taking one hand to cup her chin and lift her face up to your eyes when you catch her gaze glued elsewhere on your body. When you are sure you have her attention, you continue. "As I was saying, we could totally be Sandy and Danny from _Grease_ if we go."

Beca almost looks back down at your chest, the exposed lace and months spent doing yoga and ab exercises deteriorates all her self control go? "And I'm assuming I'd be Danny in this scenario?"

"Well taking that you both have the car, the leather, the insane amount of sex appeal and the killer good looks-though you're way _sexier_ , I'd have to say your assumption is correct," you reply and your fingers trace around the cups of Beca's navy blue bra, down her stomach and tickle the skin just above the waistline of her jeans, making her stomach muscles clench. "I know Emily is very fond of you after the short encounters you two already had, but the rest of the Bellas want to meet you-and what this campus needs is a break from everything that went on. _We,_ baby _,_ need a break."

Beca doesn't say anything, but you can hear everything that's going on inside that gorgeous head of hers as she contemplates the offer. You don't even have to pull out the puppy dog eyes as last resort before she is agreeing to the rush, mainly because, " _I'm embarrassingly horny and I'd want nothing more than to rub it in all those other college guys faces that I'm the one dating you."_

And, like, same.

Now that you can go out in public with Beca as a couple without a secret identity, the only thing you want to do is flaunt her off to the whole wide world and show everyone just how insanely lucky you are. All the double takes and stares in envy from everyone who _isn't_ you is just exhilarating to think about.

Content with confirmation about the party happening tomorrow, you reach behind your back to unclasp your bra, letting it fall to your elbows and plucking it off slowly as Beca eats you alive right there.

Without even blinking and keeping her stare lasered in on your newly nude chest, she inches her hands up your stomach and this time isn't stopped from cupping each breast in the palms of her hands, melting with a heavy sigh at the contact. "Yep, I _definitely_ missed these girls the most."

And, yeah, you guys know what happens next, _yada yada yada, boring!_

What you really want to gloat about is how much all your sisters like Beca the first moment you walk through the doors, hand in hand with your trophy prize of a girlfriend, and the two of you steal the show with the amount of black leather being worn to portray the end scene in the best musical ever, _Grease_.

You even get her these fake cigarettes from the Halloween store; she thinks it's the most thoughtful, funniest thing ever and the two of you dangle them in your mouths as you walk around the rush.

At first, the girls are intimidated by Beca; it is shown in their hesitation when they shake Beca's hand, but after a couple beers, a few games of flip cup (you guys are a _great_ team) and you torturing Beca with your spazzy dance moves to the music until she can't resist any longer and joins you with her own moves, the Bellas are enamoured by your girlfriend.

"Beca is super sweet! A little sarcastic, but she's funny!" Jessica mentions when Beca leaves the group for a moment to talk to her boss on the phone after receiving a call and Aubrey mutters under her breath about Jessica not knowing just how sarcastic Beca truly is, but it only makes you grin ear to ear.

"Agreed! Once you get pass her resting bitch face, she's a fun person to be around," Ashley says this time; Emily agrees and bounces on her heels like she's Beca's biggest fan. Her admiration only gets worse when Beca explains that she makes music and that all Emily wants to do is write music and sing, so now Beca is going to be over all the time.

Which is _fabulous_.

"I've heard that name before-Beca Mitchell...where have I heard that name?" Jessica ponders off in thought, catching the other girls' attention before they're doing the same.

You decide against mentioning the whole famous deal when they bring up how there's something different about that freshman.

 _Oh they have no idea._

"Tell is all about her, Chloe! How you two met and all that cheesy stuff! You guys have matching necklaces, so she must be the _real_ deal!"

 _Oh she is._

You get to fluff the story, saying you and Beca met on the campus quad's sandwich shop-not entirely untrue, but you leave out the fact you and her stopped a giant witch coven from forming. They continue to gush to you about Beca and how well she treats you when she leaves to get you drinks and share their excitement as they express how happy they are for you.

And hearing it all out loud from your sisters feels really _freaking_ good.

So good that your happiness transfers over to how much you drink that you end up getting carried away, _literally_ , from being too drunk to function when the rush is winding down. Beca, who has an incredible witch tolerance to alcohol, is the absolute best, as you said many times before and probably sound like a broken record.

She takes care of you when she's finished helping clean up the Bellas' house and doesn't even complain when you play the Grease soundtrack as she cooks you something to eat; a regular, plain old grilled cheese.

 _Awh, memories!_

And when you almost throw it up later, she's fully supportive and makes you ugly laugh until your abs hurt and tells you you're the most beautiful girl in the world when your head is in the toilet.

Thankfully, you keep it down and ask her in the cheesiest way possible to spend the night-lip pout and everything.

Of course she says yes.

She makes sure you're comfortable in bed after being so belligerent that undressing is a struggle-that or you just wanted Beca to take your clothes off (the world may never know). When she's ready for bed, she cuddles up from behind and secures you in her arms and just lays there, listening to your endless rambles about random nonsense because you're a talkative drunk and you really can't express what a jackpot Beca is as not only a girlfriend, but a best friend.

And you're so in love with this girl that you come to a haste conclusion when she's going on about a story of her and Luke going shot for shot until he ended up projectile vomiting during karaoke.

 _I'm going to marry you one of these days, Beca Mitchell._

* * *

 **Tampa Florida (Thanksgiving)**

When it came time for Beca to finally meet your family, it goes better way better than expected.

And that's even after the multiple panic attacks Beca had on the drive to Tampa as she preached about them hating her due to obvious reasons; 1. she's a witch who kills other witches 2. she's the one who kept you hostage and 3. she has a lot of piercings and tattoos.

That last one really doesn't make sense to you, like, _at all_.

"We aren't nuns, Beca. I'm pretty sure Christian got his first tattoo when he was fifteen and my dad paid for it."

"Well, I'm pretty sure your brother isn't a witch, too, so I think my problem is a little bit bigger than his."

"Okay, sassy. For someone who kills witches for a living you sure are acting like a giant puss."

"Shut up."

Beca then tries to use the excuse that you've already met her family (minus Anne, who is still a mystery), but it doesn't really help her case here because her dad _literally_ teaches at Barden. Needless to say, you've had him as a professor without _technically_ knowing he was Beca's father. When it came time to meet her mother, now that took everyone by surprise

And for you, the seven hour time preparation that Beca is being blessed with during the drive, as well as the _weeks_ in advanced notice you gave her, you didn't have any.

One minute you were with Beca and the next you were face to face with Lou.

Hate to say that your experience with meeting the girlfriend's parents was a _touch_ more nerve wracking if you're being completely honest.

Anyways, she isn't the only one who fears of a heart attack in anticipation; you thought you were going to throw up countless times on the highway as Beca drives the two of you to Florida for the break. This is the first time since your last boyfriend, Brad, you had your freshman to junior year of highschool that you're bringing home to meet the family. The rest were all just hookups and careless flings, but nothing as serious as what you have with Beca.

Even Brad pales in comparison.

You know your parents have already gotten over the initial shock of finding out you're dating a witch hunter who is actual a witch herself; a _white_ witch " _yes mom there's a difference_." After the concerns about you developing some type of Stockholm syndrome for Beca and you assuring them that they're _damn well out of their right mind,_ they became eager to meet the girl who saved your life in more ways than one.

However, when agreeing to come down and visit them for Thanksgiving with Beca so they could meet her, you had to lay down some rules. Usually, the holiday consists of your aunts, uncles, grandparents, cousins and anyone else in the Beale family, but this year you begged your mom not to invite more than the core group.

Not giving your girlfriend a heart attack by the amount of people she had to meet was your main concern, so your mother promised you that nobody outside of your dad and brothers would be there.

But overall, the vacation is great.

 _Better_ than great once Beca straightened herself out and coached her way through the initial introductions and the flood of questions from your entire family about everything they need to know about witches.

Your favorite part was your mom getting witches and vampires confused, asking Beca a lot about her issues with silver, garlic and needing an invitation to come into the house and seeing Beca pop forehead veins as she tried not to roll her eyes. Respectfully, she'd tell your mom that they're two completely different things, like the fact that witches are _real_ and vampires are _not_.

Or so you think.

By Thanksgiving; only a day after you guys made it to your home, Beca has been given quite the amount of attention from each person in your family. Your dad and her are basically best friends once the topic of cars comes about and the _very_ moment you two pulled up in her mustang, he was demanding that she call him, Charlie, and not Mr. Beale if she let him gawk at her car.

You've honestly never seen your dad so happy a day in your life when you caught him in the driver's seat of Beca's Ford mustang, smiling like a kid on Christmas when she told him he could take the whip for a spin.

As you all know, your mother was interested in Beca from the start once figuring out that she was a witch, but when Beca offers to help in the kitchen, warning your mother that she has no idea how to cook, "but Chloe is teaching me a thing or two," your mother beams with joy and offers to teach Beca a few more tips and tricks she has up her sleeves. What makes the interaction even better is the music your mom has playing while they cook, which coincidentally is all the famous hair bands Beca has such a passion for and spurred on some major bonding.

You practically melt into a puddle watching the two confess their love for John Bon Jovi and Joe Elliot, but mostly how much Beca fits right in, making your mom laugh with her clumsiness and wit.

"My mother was also a big cook and she'd always blare all the 80's rock throughout the entire house to piss off my dad," Beca mentions causally and it doesn't seem like a big deal, but talking about her mom so easily after her death-the good memories and such, it's warming.

And last but not least, Christian and Carson, your older brothers, picked up on the name of your girlfriend the longer they stayed chatting with Beca, claiming to have heard it before, but not exactly knowing where.

When you inform them that she's a famous music producer from California who has won multiple Grammys and platinum albums, they forget _entirely_ about the fact that she's a witch and focu more on whether or not she has met Kendrick Lamar or Drake-which she has, on _multiple_ occasions.

After an amazing early dinner spent with everyone, Christian invites you and Beca to lake where it's an annual Beale tradition to drink beer and ride the jet skiis before the sun goes down. Beca then scolds you for never mentioning that you're like _a pro jet skier, not to brag,_ and says yes to the invitation faster than you can even process what's going on.

You'd rather stay in, make use of your infancy, to childhood, to adolescent bedroom because Beca happened to dress up for dinner; a nice and simple tan blouse ( _I know, insane seeing her in anything other than black_ ) Levi, navy blue skinny jeans without any rips or tears and simple tan heeled boots.

And the thing that really got you was the lack of eyeliner, which then highlighted the blue color to her eyes, looking absolutely jaw dropping _gorgeous_ and _scrumptious_ all at the same time that it made sitting through dinner without attacking the girl your most difficult challenge ever faced.

So, yes, you want to spend some _alone_ time with your girlfriend because you've been with your family all day.

But you guess you can wait, especially if it means seeing Beca in a bikini.

All in all, the lake is a blast; Beca almost kills you when you tip the jet skii over on purpose with her riding on the back, wetting her unexpectedly and laughing at it. She races yours brothers and wins both times and it reminds you of the time you raced Beca back in Atlanta with Big Red and her mustang for your guy's very first date. You smile to yourself at the memory, overwhelmed by all the emotions and how this vacation is the best one you think you've ever had.

And it's not even over yet.

When you guys get back from the lake once the sun goes down, reeking of beer, lake water and sunscreen (Beca still somehow managed to get burnt even with the heavy amounts you applied) you finally have your girlfriend all to yourself. It takes seconds for Beca to catch your mischievous tint lacing your eyes from where you're closing the door and gives you a wary stare as she watches you saunter slowly over to where she's sitting on your bed.

Only keeping up with the facade, sending her a flirty wink as you reach behind your back to give her a front seat show, "your right leg is Thanksgiving and your left leg is Christmas. Can I visit holidays in between?"

"Calm down, girl gone wild." Beca grips at your wrists before you can untie your bikini knot around your back, halting your motions and startling you by the denial of giving her flash show. For a moment after you see she's not messing around, you start to panic, thinking that something is truly wrong with your girlfriend; someone who is always down to gawk at you topless, claiming to be a _boobman_."We are not having sex with your parents in the house. They've been trusting enough to let us sleep together in the same bed."

You want to come out and break the news to Beca that the guest room is now basically the storage room filled with pointless crap, so unless your parents were going to make her sleep on the couch, they really had no other choice.

But you bite your tongue and keep this information to yourself.

"I would want nothing more than to rip that bikini off with my teeth right now, baby, but it can't happen."

Okay, that does the opposite of controlling your hormones and make you _not_ want to have sex with Beca.

 _Of course_ this is the reason Beca is clamming up when you are already standing there, half naked so she doesn't have to do a lot of work. It makes sense; she had a wonderful day interacting with your family, helping your mom cook a _delicious_ Thanksgiving dinner (thanks to your kitchen lessons back in Atlanta she was able to scramble up the best damn homemade pumpkin pie) talking cars with your dad like a true gearhead to earn the title of your dad's best friend, and jet skiing with the brothers at the lake.

But that doesn't help your main issue, which is that witnessing all of these things involving your girlfriend and how she interacted so well with your family like she's been apart of it for years made you buzz with the leftover adrenaline coursing through your veins and amp up your hormones times _a billion_.

So, yeah, this whole good girl, respecting your family alter ego of Beca's swells your heart, it's not cutting it for you at the moment.

Not when she's still in her bikini, _wet_ and looking absolutely fuckable- _sorry grandma._

"I'll do you first?" you attempt to compromise, batting your eyelashes as extra ammo. You then have to resort to begging when Beca doesn't budge, "come on, I'm using my best lines here."

"Not a chance, trouble."

"Don't take this the wrong way, but you suck." You sigh in defeat and join Beca on your bed, taking up the empty spot next to her. Perhaps it's for the best; you're not exactly quiet when you need to be. Just ask Aubrey who lives in the room next to you at the Bellas house. Plus, Beca respecting your family is really _freaking_ sweet and kind of makes you feel guilty for trying to persuade her.

"If we aren't having sex the rest of the time we are here, then what are we going to do?" you pout childishly, but understand nonetheless. Your vagina, on the other hand, is taking the news a little more poorly, so that's an issue.

Beca ponders off, bouncing her head side to side. "We can have cuddle sex-as in _no_ sex and just cuddle?" she suggests and intertwines her hand with yours above your guys' laps.

" _Cuddle sex_?" you echo as a question, not fully understanding this new term that Beca definitely just came up with. "That is so unappealing my nipples inverted," you tease and Beca gives you a genuine laugh that always makes you feel like you've won the lottery when you can make a sound like that come from Beca. As well as _other_ sounds that obviously won't be taking place tonight, or the rest of the time in Florida. "What about making out? Or is that too risky, _Ms. Purity Ring_?"

Smirking wolfishly at the new suggestion, "now _that_ I can work with," Beca mutters flirty and you dive straight in to snag her lips because, right now, your patience is testing you. As you sweep in to reconnect your lips, she keeps the distance by putting a hand on your chest. "But there's boundaries."

"Seriously?" you whine exasperated and your shoulders sag to match the frown on your face.

"Yes, _seriously_. You're basically my own personal dose of heroine when we make out, add the inappropriate touching and grinding into the mix and I'm a goner-both of which are _banned_ ," Beca points an accusing finger at you and you don't have to be reminded that she's clairvoyant and could hear the plans mustering up inside your head out loud.

Even though you don't want to, you give her the green light to expand on these so called boundaries; two of which you already know are off limits. _Guess that means dry humping is out of the equation as well._

"From here down-" Beca gestures from the front of her shoulders down to the top of her kneecaps,"-are off limits. _These_ are definitely off limits." Her hands raise back up her body to hover above her breasts covered by a small amount of swimwear and honestly, she might as well stab you with a knife to see those beauties go to waste because it would hurt far less. "And no neck biting, sucking or licking-you know what that does to me. Everything else is fair game."

" _Everything_ meaning your face, arms and half your legs-not even the _good_ parts either!" you quickly apologize, saying that all of Beca's legs are the best part, but her thighs, especially _inner_ thighs are your dirty leverage to use against the girl. "Where are my hands supposed to go? Your armpits? Am I supposed lick the backs of your knees or suck on your toes-actually, is this your way of admitting to me that you have a _foot fetish_?"

Beca gives you another full on belly laugh, assuring you that she does not have a foot fetish, but admits to having a difficult time controlling her actions when you do half of the things she has banned.

And even though it sucks, you'd be perfectly content just having cuddle sex with the girl.

Because just being around her presence is more than enough.

"I love you very much," you mumble this sweetly to Beca, mood dropping from a hundred to zero. Even though you enjoy sex with Beca, **a lot** , you enjoy just _being_ with her even more. "And I'm really happy you're here right now."

Beca smiles down towards her lap then lift her head back up for you to notice it has only gotten bigger. "I love you, too. Thanks for allowing me to meet your parents; it's an honor that I'll never be able to repay." There's a glint to Beca's eyes and how she's smiling at you that makes your heart race a mile a minute and causes you to lean in the remaining distance until you experience a kiss filled with so much passion that it makes your entire body vibrate.

It's not sex, but you think it's something _better_.

Guess a **very** cold shower is in your future once you two are finished, _separately_ , unfortunately.

* * *

 **Graduation**

Today's the day.

Today is the day you can stand up from that chair wearing that ugly, forest green gown, walk across the stage, shake the Dean's hand and accept your fake diploma as the real one gets sent it the mail later on. You get to spend roughly a couple of hours in the hot, Georgia State University's Stegeman Coliseum with _thousands_ of other peers graduating in your class, all for one moment as they call your name and by your major.

Aubrey is on stage for a good chunk of the ceremony, reading her speech that you and her edited together until it was _flawless_ and you try not to cry when seeing your valedictorian best friend up there _wowing_ the entire arena. She's accomplished so much and you couldn't be more proud knowing someone as smart as her also has one hell of a shot with a gun.

And Stacie...Stacie has never looked more proud as she's the loudest ones in the stands, cheering her girlfriend on with pride dripping from every pore.

Then when the boring part is done, you get to take a _hundred_ pictures with friends, your sisters, professors you like and some you dislike and a lot with your family because mom insists on capturing every moment possible. In fact, the first moment she spots you after the ceremony she admits to using up a full memory card of space from pictures she's taken and all you can do is chuckle and give her an eye roll.

Your brothers take turns spinning you around like a rag doll and you're giggling madly and threatening to puke on them unless they put you down (not because you, Stacie, Aubrey and the rest of the Bellas got drunk before graduation because that's a _huge_ thing to do). Christian's wife, who is pregnant with your nephew and Clay's girlfriend also share their love, telling you congratulations and that you'll be the hottest school teacher out there.

Which is more than a compliment and one of your largest goals as you dip your toes into the teacher pool now that you are getting a degree.

The best part (after, of course, completing another milestone in your life, graduating from college with a major in English and minor in Music Theory) is catching a glimpse of Beca through the crowd, holding up a bouquet of sunflowers ( _favorite_ ) and wearing a smile full of pride when she locks eyes with you. You feel a mixture of emotions; elation that she is here, but confusion as to why and how she's currently in Atlanta right now.

Initially, she was supposed to be in New York for press on her new album she worked on with Lynn Gunn who you've met and heard before live at Buckhead. So far, she's been making herself more public as far as music goes, but the ghost behind the music is still a huge discussion in Hollywood due to the hatred of having no alone time away from cameras. However, she agreed to do some press with Lynn, which was unfortunately during your graduation, and both of you were devastated that she couldn't make it, but you understood, claiming that, " _it's way boring, Bec. We can always celebrate when you get back!"_

But here she is, standing in all her leather glory, baiting you to cover the rest of the distance while your mother is in the background, camera covering her face so she can record the moment.

It takes about a minute to process that this gorgeous specimen is actually _there_ , standing across the room and not some type of crazy mirage messing with your head. When you realize this, it takes an even shorter amount of time to run in between all the other students, jump up into her arms so that she catches you and kiss her harder than you've ever kissed someone before.

And honestly, you feel all top of the world.

You've graduated college _and_ got the girl.

It can't get any better than that.

* * *

For a graduation present, Beca spoils you with a trip to California.

You try to explain that the dinner she made _from scratch_ and the entire day spent in Atlanta with her when she took you to a shooting range was more than enough. It was the **best** day ever, in fact, and not only because you guys took the world by storm together, holding hands and doing those gross ( _but insanely cute and long overdue_ ) couple things out in public while shooting guns and stealing everyone's attention, but because you spent the whole day with Beca.

You even tell her that the two of you could stay in and watch TV all day, or stare at the wall to watch paint dry and it would be a _perfect_ graduation present. Then you assure her that she already does enough for you as it is, so a graduation present isn't necessary and then she'd hit you with, " _I'm just really fucking proud of you and I want us to do something special because you deserve it,"_ card, making you feel an abundance of love.

Everyday with Beca is special and you mean it.

But a couple days after graduation, Beca announces that she has work to do in Los Angeles back in the studio and instead of being alone and missing the girl like crazy, basically pulling your hair out due to boredom because Beca is the firework to your ordinary life, she calls you the night she leaves, already in California, instructing you to get packed because you have a flight at 5:45 A.M the following morning.

" _In the morning?" you screeched, unsure if you heard this right._

 _Beca dismisses your question intentionally,_ " _ **bring all your bikinis, too."**_

So, _duh_ , you sprinted to your closet, found your largest suitcase and started packing it to the top with all the necessities for a spontaneous vacation.

And _California_?

Sorry but your arm was twisted at the promise of taking you to Huntington Beach.

She even mentioned the San Diego Zoo which, _gasp_ , sounds like so much fun.

When you see Beca at the passenger pick up, exactly where she said she'd meet you when you texted her that you've landed, you notice two things. 1. Luke is with her, dressed in his usual black attire, has the black ray bans covering his eyes and looks like if Sons of Anarchy had a baby with Hollister. 2. Beca is also dressed in a nice pair of black skinny jeans, black tank top, but is wearing a camouflage, zip up jacket on top with her hair straightened and leaned up against-not her mustang- but a _motorcycle_.

The last observation is the one that you really notice to the point of not only making your heart skip several beats, but tripping over your own feet in front of everybody currently at LAX and ending up dropping your drink (thankfully it was just ice) because **holy shit,** you were on the lookout for her trademark black, but got this instead.

 _This_ total heartthrob who gets to welcome you to the lovely state of California and already, this trip is **amazing**.

" _How_!?" you exclaim in disbelief the moment you're face to face with Beca and she slowly removes her black aviators to give you a puzzle, but amused look nonetheless. "How are you _this_ damn sexy!?" Beca opens her mouth to respond, but you don't seem to be finished just yet. "And is that a Triumph Rocket 3?" You would know the model, taking that your girlfriend's hobbies include collecting weapons, making music, and collecting way more cars, _necessary_.

And apparently motorcycles, too.

"I love it when you talk dirty to me," Beca's words come out as a growl when she hooks a finger at your belt loop, taking you by surprise as she tugs you in for a very unexpected, very _appreciated_ heated kiss.

Your arms find their usual spot to hook around Beca's neck while her's find their spot clawing at either sides of your waist and you kiss her like you haven't seen her in _years_.

And not less than twenty four hours.

"Told ya I had a bike," she mumbles this across your lips, but you kiss her silent, not wanting to talk as of right now when she could be putting that skillful tongue of hers to work.

"This twerp wanted a crotch rocket, but her bloody forty pounds in weight and three feet in height prevented her from buying one," Luke quickly interrupts the moment, causing you two to break apart, winded and out of breath.

Any other time you'd scold him for interrupting your intimate moments with Beca, but it was for the best since she has broken the scale of how attractive a person can get and without him here, you don't know if you could've stopped. You straighten yourself out to make it seem like you're not completely _dazed_ out of your mind with the feeling of Beca's lips still lingering over yours and cheek a smile to Luke.

Throwing yourself at the taller boy, he engulfs you with his strong arms and height, chuckling at your eagerness. "What are you doing here?" you question excitedly, but also confused because you were expecting just Beca at the airport and now you have Luke who you didn't even know was in California at the time.

Whatever the reason may be that brings him to greet you at LAX, you have to admit you missed his British charm and _killer_ margaritas; something he should definitely make for you guys since he's here. The last time you saw him was spring break in the Bahamas; a special treat from him and Jade since making it to your graduation didn't seem likely. As the months passed by, you, him and Jade created a special bond which basically means he's part of your family.

So, yeah, you're kind of really _ecstatic_ to see him right now.

Luke ruffles your hair-he's lucky you've been on a plane for hours and it probably looks like a bird's nest anyways- and kisses your temple when he gives more of a side hug. "Couldn't let Beca have all the fun knowing my favorite redhead is in town."

"Even though I wanted you all to myself, I figured a surprise from Luke would be something you'd like, so I decided to share," it's Beca who says this, smirking at Luke and leaned back up against her motorcycle, _oozing_ all the sex appeal that you're desperately trying to ignore " _This_ time."

"Well you figured correct," you reply and notice a few paparazzis in the distance snapping a few photos, but they're a strange distance away from you guys. You bring this up when your eyes wander, not that you're worried about your pictures being taken because obviously dating a famous music producer the chances are kind of inevitable, but because there's not alot and are really far away.

"Since Luke basically follows me anywhere and now that I'm showing my face more in Hell-I mean the _media_ ," Beca quickly corrects, making you giggle at the comparison. "I figured I needed, _one_ , a manager, and _two_ , my own personal bodyguard, so I told Luke he could do all the boring stuff for me and get the press off my back."

Luke nods his head, puffing his chest out for intimidation. "Yeah I get to scare away all the nagging paps and make sure this one is taken care of." He shoots you a wink; Beca just rolls her eyes.

Now that makes sense as to the distance separating you guys and the paparazzis; Luke is scaring them half to beam a smile when it seems like everything is falling into place, but then notice Luke's lack of a vehicle since Beca took her bike. Unless he rode on the back, which is highly doubtful, then, "how'd you get here?"

As on cue, a black, Maserati GranTurismo convertible cruises up to the curb before stopping behind where Beca's bike is parked and you smile even bigger when you realize who it is. Of course you'd recognize those _immaculate_ pair of eyebrows any day a million miles away.

"Jade!" You bounce to the front of this...ridiculous flashy car- _Jesus, this must be California because no one is paying any attention to you guys._ A car this nice in Atlanta would only be seen in Buckhead, but even in that boujee city a freaking _Maserati_ with red interior is rare to run across. "What are you doing here?!"

"Little Red Riding Hood!" Jade puts on the hazard lights and jumps out of the car, practically jumping in your arms as she hugs you. "I miss your stupid, _bubbly_ smile!" She pinched at your cheeks in a way your mother would. "And I'm here to pick up this handsome one." She throws an arm around Luke's lower back and his slugs over her shoulders. "I was going to park, but _fuck that_ , walking is a no go for me, so I flipped a bitch and came back around."

Keeping that grin on your face bright as day, now realizing how Luke got here, "I missed you too! This is the best surprise _ever_!" you gush and look at Beca who is responsible for all of this, now at a lost of words from a hurricane of happiness. "Wanna tell me why you have the nicest car I've ever seen-except _yours_ , of course," you correct yourself when you feel Beca ready to argue that her mustang is the nicest car you've ever seen. Jade's is pretty up there, however.

"My boss treats me good." You don't miss the wink exchanged between Beca and Jade, so seeing that just escalated your curiosity by what she means exactly. "Especially when she is a huge music producer and the pack leader in charge of Alphaveta, a small, _international_ printing company."

"And by printing company she means _killing witches_ as the job description." Luke gives your shoulder a nudge at the same time he winks; you would have gathered that much. When would Beca _ever_ be boss at a printing company?

"These two noobs make up the council, let me know the trouble going on in the real world," Beca explains casually, each of them flaunting that known symbol of the organization somewhere on their bodies and you wearing yours around your neck, as well.

In fact, you haven't really taken it off since you were given this special of jewelry, which brought a lot of curiosity to everyone who didn't know what it meant and a lot of bullshit to come flying out of your were even able to hang the silver Bellas' 'B' off the same chain as the crescent moon and stone pendant.

"There's more witches out there?" you ask, eyes switching between the three of them.

Beca nods her head and it's not reassuring one bit. "Some want money and some want power. Some want sex and only sex. Some want beauty and some literally just want to kill," she explains carefully; Jade and Luke back her up by their own head nods. "But nothing like the Gail situation. Her and Kommissar were very strong and old witches _,_ but also _insane._ "

Okay, so your girlfriend basically took over Lou's spot and now runs a giant witch hunting organization in her spare time of being a famous music producer. There's also _more_ witches out there that aren't like Beca, wanting to hurt innocent people for their own gain, and range in the age of mature, old witches, to _dumb_ , baby witches.

Somehow, you're unable to fully process this, but is it weird to think it's kind of... _cool_? Like you're dating a total badass?

"But that isn't important!" Jade claps her hands and goes to grab your luggage. You disagree completely- _this is very much important,_ taking that there are more threats out there in the world, all that revolve around witches. "The main reason why I'm here is to see you, of course, but the second is to grab your stuff since Beca is giving you a ride home in more ways than one." Jade and Luke share a laugh at her sexual innuendo; you snicker as you watch the two take your suitcase and put it in the back of their car, not disagreeing with Jade's statement, but knowing that's a conversation not meant for anyone else to hear except you and Beca.

As if she could read your mind (funny because she can) she grabs your hands, pulling you in close and the motion switches your focus from Jade to Beca. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you that Gail and Kommissar weren't the last of the black witches, but there's not a lot of us out there. We are a dying species, so I barely ever get a call for a job."

You're definitely not mad, maybe a little worried that Beca puts herself in danger killing all these witches, but you knew what you were getting into ten months ago, so you can't really be upset. "You'd tell me if you did, right? Get another job?"

" _Totes_ ," Beca's promise is genuine, even makes you giggle and she's never given you a reason not to believe her before, so you nod your head, letting the topic go for now.

She yells over to Luke and Jade who are now sitting in their car, looking like fancy CIA agents and tells them that you guys are leaving and to meet back at her place so you could get your stuff.

Receiving a thumbs up from Luke before Jade pulls the car out into the street, "Now let's have some fun."

"Okay!" You chirp with a clap to your hands, then catch the extra motorcycle helmet Beca tosses over to you before straddling the bike- _holy fuck this girl is so hot._ You get on next and almost melt in the seat when you feel the motor rev up to a sound that fills the entire passenger pick up area and have to wrap your arms around her waist as you wait in anticipation, soaking into her embrace.

Terrified and hysterical all in one, Beca takes off at a scary speed while weaving in between all the cars sitting in ridiculous, bumper to bumper traffic, especially on the highway since that's legal in California and laughs when you're screaming against the wind, feeling the most alive you've ever felt.

It's only just the start of your trip and you don't really know what to expect, but knowing everything is now in your girlfriend's hands and you're currently riding on a _motorcycle,_ the possibilities are endless.

Like how she takes you over to her studio, Capitol Records, and throws you into the booth to record a song you both have been working on; a private song Beca wrote and produced and needed a perfect harmony to mash well with her low, alto voice. You even helped out with the lyrics, the song a perfect blend of everything you two have gone through and how, no matter what, you'll always be on her team.

And she'll always be on yours.

Everything is going great after the trip to the studio; Beca is true to her promise and takes you out to the beach after getting lunch at Hide Sushi, a _delicious_ sushi bar that lives up to your expectations and even goes beyond. She gets a table away from most the crowd the restaurant has, giving you a chance to talk about anything in private, no matter how random and ridiculous; at one point you two were talking about this new, hippie, charcoal toothpaste you are trying out, so when you say the topics were random, you mean it.

With a stomach full of sashimi and tuna rolls, you and her walk hand in hand across the Huntington Beach pier and even ride those bikes around while petting random strangers' dogs, laughing and telling more stories; the time you fell off your bike trying to ride on your brothers' cool, _advanced_ skate ramp and ended up breaking your wrist.

"They _swore_ the ramp was safe and it would make me super cool if I rode down it. Obviously, it wasn't _Chloe proof_ and ended me up in the emergency room when I rode off it."

Beca howls a laugh, joking about getting you a helmet for safety purposes, but you decline the suggestion, swearing that you're a pro bike rider now. "You're such a dork."

She then surprises you with two jet skis floating at shore, there's two life jackets and Beca challenging you to a race across the Pacific Ocean and it makes sense why she made you change into your bathing suit before you guys drove to the beach to have lunch. You end up winning, of course, and Beca blames it on the fact you've had more practice, but when you kiss her on shore soft and slowly, as the sun is setting in the background and the sound of waves are crashing around you, she tells you she's never felt more like a winner until now.

And you have to say you really love California.

And really, _really_ love your girlfriend.

Back at Beca's place after taking a shower- _together this time_ -everything is better than perfect until she gets a call from Adar, who is in Utah, claiming to have a 'situation,' when you two are eating dinner at her super fancy apartment that she made from scratch.

And by situation, he means a _witch_ situation.

Frustration is evident by the pinch in her brows and the sudden irritation lacing her words as she tells Adar that tonight isn't a good night, but it seems to be a deal that needs to be stopped before it can possibly get worse. Like, Gail and Kommissar type of worse, which is totally understandable.

Don't want a repeat of what happened in Barden to happen in Utah; a _mormon_ state.

Even though it's written on her face that taking care of this call is the last thing she wants to be doing, she explains that she needs to fly out to Utah and says that there's a small witch cult about to crash some type of ceremony at a church and needs to get there before that can happen. When you don't even put up a fight and start to clean up dinner with Beca, she begins to question what you were doing.

At Beca's quizzical stare boring into the side of your head and how she's frozen in place demanding answers, "I'm coming with you," you inform her bluntly.

For the first time ever, Beca doesn't want to agree with your demands, not exactly underestimating your strengths, but sure as hell not wanting you to get hurt doing something so dangerous by letting you go. She already had to chance your skills last time with Gail in the forest, making a two time deal is more than a little risky.

"Chloe-"

Cutting her off; you've already prepared a speech for a time like this, knowing Beca would be more hesitant to let you come."We are a team, Bec," you remind softly, lifting the same piece of jewelry that Beca is wearing off your neck, allowing the black gem to shimmer under the kitchen lights. "It wasn't the plan to get wrapped up in all this witch stuff, but now that I have, I can't just quit cold turkey. We are in this together now, me and you-you and I, _whatever_ and... I want to help."

Silence is the first to appear between the two of you, but you can see the cogs in Beca's head turning, like she's contemplating whether or not she's letting you join her. Regardless, you are going with or without permission and flying to Utah in Beca's private jet that she, apparently, has ontop of all her fancy cars, so her thinking it through is a lost cause.

Hesitant at first, the corners of Beca's mouth start to pull upwards into that signature smirk of hers and you know by the sight that you've won this round. "You remember how to shoot, Firecracker?"

" _Pshh_ ," you nudge at Beca's shoulder, curving up a similar, smug smirk, the mirrors her's. "It's like riding a bike, babe."

* * *

 **October, 5 Months Later...**

 ***Incoming Call From Mom***

"Hey mom!" You chirp into the phone, holding the device between your shoulder and ear.

" _Hey, honey. How are you doing? How's everything?"_ Comes your mother's eager reply; it's been a while since you've last spoken to her, but you've been busy with work and decorating the new home located in Vail, Colorado that you and Beca just recently moved into.

It was a simple move; Beca stayed updated on all the jobs you were applying to and luckily, you ended up getting an offer for nice, full-time job in Vail as a music teacher for a fancy private school where you'd teach all levels. At the time, you were still in Atlanta, working as a waitress at an Old Chicago (and witch hunting) after graduation as you applied to other ' _adult'_ jobs while Beca was bouncing between California and Atlanta for, so long distance was an issue, but also... _not_ _an issue_?

You don't really know; it was never hard keeping your relationship strong with Beca. The history of fighting witches together is like gorilla glue keeping you two close and only growing closer one year later, if possible. The issue you had was missing her all the damn time, so when you joked about moving in together where you'd get free back massages all the time, thinking she'd have her own silly response to this delusion, she was all for the idea.

No teasing.

No jokes.

She wanted to live with you and after ten months of dating the best thing that has happened in your life, you felt the same way.

You were taken back at first, but then you were _ecstatic_ when she formally asked you seconds later to find a house together and was already googling schools to apply for and homes to live in that you two could look at and see which one fit best.

 _Super_ domesticated stuff.

When you got a call from Vail Mountain School offering you a full time job, you about bounced off the walls with excitement and you and Beca were then able to look at homes in Colorado to live in _together_. Wanting to get out of the heart of the city and to a more secluded, yet still very scenic area, the two of you ended up buying a beautiful, mountain modern cabin secluded from everyone, similar to Beca's in Atlanta and about fell in love with it at first sight.

So, yeah, you could say life is pretty fucking great right now, especially since you've only just graduated five months ago, but luck has always been on your side, especially since you've gotten your ladybug tattoo on the inside of your wrist when you were in California with Beca after graduation, just like you two talked about.

Shamelessly, Beca laughed at you and it _hurt_.

But you don't regret it at all.

" _Does this make me look punk rock now?"_

" _Oh_ _totally_."

Anyways, back to present time, "I'm really good, mom. Work is good- _great_ , actually. I'm on fall break right now; Beca is working with some underground labels in Denver on her solo stuff, but mostly taking time off. Stacie and Bree are flying up here for the week; I actually am driving to DIA to pick them up this afternoon.."

" _Is Aubrey enjoying her first couple months at Georgia? Stacie's head sister now at the Bellas' right?"_

"Aubrey loves it there- I guess the classes are, like, on steroids compared to undergrad, but she likes being close to Stacie," you inform your mom with a smile and just happened to talk to Aubrey about this not even a couple days ago as the two of you gushed about your girlfriends. "Yes, Stacie is now head sister, as well as Emily and they've gotten more pledgees than ever before." This is true and you couldn't be more proud of them two.

How they did it was something beyond you, but love to hear all the stories about the Bellas' traditions that you and Aubrey were apart of before passing the crowns down to the sisters who you thought would uphold the Bellas' legacy and turns out, they sure have.

" _How's Colorado? I got the pictures you sent us, your house is beautiful,"_ your mom seems interested.

"Thank you! Yeah, Becs and I got lucky picking out this one. As for weather... _super_ bipolar, not as hot and humid as Atlanta, but since it's early in October, the autumn weather is _perfect_." You could go on and on about how amazing Colorado is, the change was quite large and the elevation almost killed both you and Beca, but overall, _best_ decision ever.

Plus, it's almost snow season and you live in a state that is huge on snowboarding and happen to live in the mountains, so, _duh_ , you and Beca are definitely going to learn how to do all of that.

Your mom and you talk some more to catch up on life; she tells you everything that's going on down in Tampa and how Clay is engaged and Christian is expecting his _second_ child; your first nephew, Tony, pretty much stole your heart the day he was born when you and Beca flew down to Tampa.

After awhile, you get so caught up in your mom's stories that you don't even hear Beca sneaking up behind you from upstairs and jump when you feel lips kissing softly up your neck; kisses that make you squeeze your thighs together and bite your lip not to make any sounds.

Sounds that definitely shouldn't be exchanged while on the phone with your mother.

Shivering at the sensation and how Beca's warm breath is tickling your ear that's not holding your cell phone between your shoulder, "Hey, mom, I'm going to have to call you back." Your eyes roll to the back of your head when you feel teeth nipping at your earlobe and Beca's low chuckle vibrates your entire skeleton when she sees her effect on you.

Your mom doesn't seem to question the abrupt change in topic, but also doesn't seem to let you go just yet. " _Okay, honey. Are you and Beca being safe?"_

"Y-yes...yes we are," you correct yourself when at first it was stuttered out, no thanks to Beca's lips and teeth tearing you apart. "Okay, I really gotta go," you warn breathlessly, and pull the phone away when a certain suck to your ear causes you to squeak out a high pitch noise.

" _Tell Beca I said hi and call your dad! He misses you!"_ Your mom rushes out and your thumbs are already on the move to end the call.

Quickly before anymore slip ups take place, "will do! Bye!" you basically shout into the phone, pressing the red 'end' button and twist your neck to capture Beca's teasing lips that were torturing you through the entire last half of the call, silencing her laughs by a _brutal_ kiss.

You don't pull away until you've tasted enough- though you don't really believe there's ever enough when it comes to kissing Beca- but eventually you do break away from the kiss before it gets _too_ out of control and you guys end up making out instead of cooking dinner like the two of you have done _lots_ of times.

"Being safe?" Beca echoes your mother's last words, voice raspy low and eyes hooded over as she is leaning over you in the desk chair.

Wiping at the lipgloss smeared around Beca's lips with your thumb, " _always_ ," is what you say back flirty and was the same thing you told your mom, except your mom doesn't see the desert eagle sitting on the desk that you were in the middle of cleaning and were taking apart during most of the call.

What she doesn't know wont kill her-actaully, if she did know what you and Beca were doing on the side of teaching kids music and _making_ music, she'd have an aneurysm.

Like Beca said before, she barely gets any calls about witches, but when she does, you and her - _the best duo ever_ -always needs to be prepared.

Which lead you to cleaning some of the smaller weapons stocked up in Beca and yours basement, next to all of Beca's fancy music equipment and your little work out zone. Austin Texas was the last time there was problems, where there were some southern witches ready to cause some chaos by using their witchy powers to crash a elementary school dance and steal a handful of children.

You two stopped them before that could happen; Beca was able to use her concilium to literally turn their leader's brain to _mush_ because she was fighting off everything Beca was trying to control her to do. Looking back, you never expected your true calling to be witching hunting or even falling in love with one who later became your partner in life, _and_ witch hunting, but you can't say you're disappointed.

It's _weirdly_ a lot of fun minus the near death experiences, making the world a safer better place, especially doing all of these things with your girlfriend.

At least you guys keep the life interesting for a pair of twenty three year olds, that's for damn sure.

"Safe? I don't know the meaning of the word," Beca purs seductively, using her height advantage on you to straddle your thighs, resting her knees on either sides on the desk chair. Her hands grip the back next to your head, giving you a full, up close view of all the cleavage her tank top isn't covering. "Am I bothering you, _Ms. OO-Sexy?_ "

Pushing the gun away and all it's spare parts, "in the best ways, of course," you tease playfully and now that she's in your lap, your hands move to her hips like magnets. Once you learned how to clean weapons, the duty was picked up and became habitual. Now, you enjoy doing it and even find the time relaxing. "I'm always up for a break, though."

Beca lights up at your hint, her eyes darken within one blink and she's giving you that crooked smile as you crane your neck up to look at her. "Then I'm your girl," she drops flirty and coy. "Come up here and kiss me like you miss me, Red."

"Sounds like fun," you say with excitement, lifting yourself up and taking Beca up with you, the cleaning of the gun long forgotten. "How much time before we leave for the airport?"

"Approx 30 minutes," she whispers in your ear, baiting you with the time and musses your hair in her hands. "Think that's enough time for you, Champ?"

Confident with yours skills and wanting to get one last _hoorah_ in before the alone, _intimate_ time you and Beca get will be limited for a week when Aubrey and Stacie are here, " _more_ than enough."

* * *

Later that evening after driving two hours down to DIA to pick up Stacie and Aubrey, the four of you are back at your house after picking up takeout at yours and Beca's favorite Chinese place and making a quick trip to the liquor store to find the cheapest wine that can easily knock you on your ass after a glass or so. Now that all of you guys are each experiencing individual food comas after a delicious dinner and small talk, Stacie brings out the wine bought earlier and pours everyone a glass.

Conversations flow easily and you catch up with life back at Barden, all the crazy stories about the Bellas'. Stacie's enrolled in all these crazy, _complicated_ courses all involving something science and Aubrey is melting her brain in law textbooks. Aubrey also is sharing a new house with Jessica, her boyfriend, and Ashley since they all decided to stay local until they go off and get their masters.

As for Stacie and Aubrey, they're stronger than ever, especially since Aubrey came out to her parents at graduation and introduced Stacie as her girlfriend and not her "good" friend. Her parents had opposite reactions; Aubrey's mom always loved Stacie because of her brains, sense of humor and the fact that she always gave Aubrey's mom beauty tips. Her dad also enjoyed Stacie, but that was before the _girlfriend_ bomb was dropped on him and had a hard time accepting it with being raised old fashion.

Eventually after some time and enduring the silent treatment from Aubrey when she put her foot down, threatening her father that if he doesn't love her because she's dating a girl, then she doesn't want him in her life, he got use to the idea. Now, a year later, him and Stacie are like besties, always talking about politics and the environment.

They even talk space and the quantum of physics together over coffee like a bunch of nerds; Aubrey absolutely _loves_ it.

And Stacie's parent are like super liberal and loved Aubrey right from the start, so their relationship is stronger than ever, which makes your heart very warm to see your friends so happy.

When the bottle is gone and everyone (maybe just you) is finally a little buzzed, Beca announces that she's going to take a quick shower since she's been out and about all day and hadn't yet. She stands up from where you guys are camped out in the living room area next to a fancy fireplace that came with the cabin and plants a chaste kiss over your lips.

As she leaves the room, you watch every step until she's out of sight, heart swollen and smile so large it could split your face.

"This place is crazy nice, Chlo!" Stacie snaps you out of your little daze, reeling you back to reality and catch her scanning the entire room in astonishment. It was the first time the pair has been to your new house since you and Beca bought the place, but had a rough image from the pictures you'd send them. "And it's away from everybody! Plus the view... _holy shit_." She's referring back to the sunset you guys were able to catch the last of; the mountains and fall colors only amplifying the beauty of the pink and orange hue in the sky that are so much more brighter than in the city.

The sunsets in Atlanta were something great, but the sunsets in Vail _are out of this world._

Snuggling into Stacie's embrace, "you and Beca seem _really_ happy," Aubrey observes with a smile; a smile that is more cheeky and wide compared to normal and it's a clear identifier that Aubrey is _a little_ tipsy.

Maybe borderline drunk, no thanks to the extreme elevation change that almost killed you the first night you and Beca got drunk and you were trashed two beers in.

Aubrey uses Stacie's arms to wrap around her midsection from behind and takes a sip of her glass of wine. "Who knew you two would have packed up, moved to a new state and bought a house together?"

Honestly, you had a hunch.

"It's crazy, I know, but we _are_ really happy," you confirm, more than at peace with the situation. You're happier than you've ever been and a very large factor, actually the _main_ reason as to why you're so happy is because of the girl you get to spend every morning, day and night with. "So happy that I actually have to show you guys something."

They're startled by your sudden outburst and how you abruptly stand up to find whatever it was that you wanted to show them and when you return back with your new Macbook, they're thrown for a loop even more. You ignore the twin pair of blank stares as they watch you type something into your laptop from the couch, finding exactly what you wanted to show them saved under your bookmarks tab.

Handing over the computer to the pair, you ask for all their opinions, biting your thumbnail in anticipation and from the nerves. "So, what do you think?" you ask timidly.

Simultaneously, their jaws drop to their chest and Stacie even moves the screen closer up to her and Aubrey's face to get a better look. There's a long series of " _oh my God, Chloe!_ " and just flabbergasted sounds coming from the both of them, making your face feel hot and you curl up into a ball where you're sitting on the ground, patiently waiting on your best friends' input.

Aubrey is too stunned to even talk as she examines every inch of the screen as close as she can get and Stacie is bouncing off the walls with a billion different emotions. "Is this a _custom_?" she asks with fascination, in awe by what you are showing them.

You shake your head eagerly, unable to wipe the beaming smile off your face. You then explain every detail of the item, where you were able to start from scratch to match the details with Beca's entire aesthetic and your true reasoning for showing them this tonight. They give you their full attention as you explain everything, just like how you explained it to your parents and try not to cry, but because you're feeling the wine, you feel the tears pooling in your eyes regardless.

" _Obviously_ it's going to be some time before I can put the plan into action, hopefully a year, but I've been saving up ever since the first moment I realized I wanted to do this."

Aubrey squints her eyes, tapping her chin. "Is that why you were working doubles at Old Chicago?" You nod your head, guilty as charged. "And how long have you been planning this?"

"November of last year." you respond confidently; Aubrey and Stacie's eyes stretch wide at this new information and your first instinct is to take it back. "Is that too... _soon_? A little creepy?"

"No, hun! There's people who do what you're planning months after meeting each other," Aubrey assures positively at the way your body spikes up with fear that maybe you're jumping the gun with this one.

"Yeah, even days," Stacie chips in, earning a sideways glance from both you and Aubrey that screams _really_? Brushing off the confused glances, Stacie continues. "What matters is that _you're_ ready, and from what I've seen over the year of being with you two, you've been ready for a long time."

You couldn't be happier hearing this come from your closest friends. The idea of them saying everything you're are planning is one giant mistake or not agreeing to anything is a literal nightmare, but you knew they'd be supportive no matter what.

"But tell us everything! We want to know all your ideas and plans and we want to help!"

You bounce forward with a large smile, eager to explain everything you've been planning for months now to your best friends before Beca is out of the shower.

* * *

 **Halloween, One Year Later**

 **[Aubrey Posen 6:36 PM]: Everything is ready to go!**

 _[Chloe Beale 6:39 PM]: Awes! Thank you guys soooooo much! Hopefully I don't have a heart attack before we get there…_

 **[Aubrey Posen 6:40 PM]: Relax, Chlo! She's going to love it. You did absolutely amazing. Stop over thinking and get your cute butt over here!**

 **[Aubrey Posen 6:40 PM]:** **No texting and driving!**

With shaky, sweaty hands, you put away your cell phone just in time before Beca walks into the kitchen after getting ready for the evening drive you suggested to her after dinner. It was kind of your guys' _thing_ to do after two years of dating. You'd both get in a car, drive with no destination and blast music out the rolled down windows and sing at the top of your lungs; one time you guys drove to Nevada from Vail and didn't even realize it until the ' **Welcome to Las Vegas** ' sign popped up on the side of the highway.

Of course, you guys went gambling once realizing your short drive turned into a _long_ drive, making the most out of the trip, but that's story for another time.

Depending on who was driving, you'd feed Beca ice cream or she'd feed you french fries from the passenger seat and everything would be so much fun. _Any time_ spent with Beca is beyond a blast; she's a small, _sexy_ ball of spontaneous adventures that are the reasons why your life is as perfect and exciting as it is today. Driving without a care to the world is just child's play compared to all the other amazing, crazy stuff Beca spurs onto you without explanation.

This time is a different drive from the ones you usually take-and not only because you two are currently in Atlanta visiting Aubrey, Stacie and the Bellas. It's a different drive because this time, there's a destination, but Beca has no idea where the destination leads, nor does she know all the other little details.

And during the entire duration to get to the place you've had planned out, your palms are sweating profusely against the steering wheel where you're white knuckling the rubber, no one is singing along to the music playing in the background when it has always been your job to do so, even though it's old Britney Spears, and you feel like you're going to throw up your entire breakfast, lunch and dinner the longer you're in the car.

"Are you okay?" Beca picks up on the uncharacteristic quietness coming from you and how you're death gripping the wheel right now. "You're really...pale? Do you feel sick?"

Yes, you do feel sick, but know it's not because of something bad you ate. Instead, you feel extremely nauseous because of the nerves filling your body and know they won't go away until the deed is done.

You try to put on your best fake smile, but think it comes out more as a grimace when you switch between Beca, who is looking at you with so much concern to make your heartache, and the road. "I'm good, baby," you assure, though it's not convincing by the waver in your tone and it's the first thing Beca picks up on.

"Why don't we go back to the cabin and I can make us some tea?" Beca is being so incredibly sweet putting you first and though all of this is for her, you have to push your nerves to the side and _swear_ to Beca that you're more than okay to go on this drive.

A drive going straight into Barden's forest where in the middle holds a special surprise.

"Taking a trip to Barden's mysterious forest, Beale?" Beca studies out the window, amusement lacing her words. "Didn't you know that there's witches out here-oh! Even worse, _aliens_."

You giggle at the rumor that happened to stick around Barden during the time all the abductions took place. Now, all everyone could talk about is the forest where aliens experiment on college drunk students and all the creepy, online horror stories people create. "It's also a place where you _saved_ me on multiple occasions. Practically where we met."

"It is nice seeing the place again, reliving all the memories and time spent here. I bet we could find the tree you shot a dent through instead of hitting the fruit your, like, second day of training."

"I can rightfully admit my shooting was _rubbish_ before all those long training days with you."

"At least you looked good," Beca counters and throws you a wink that somehow calms your erratic heartbeat thundering inside your chest now that you're getting closer to the heart of the forest. "But in all seriousness, what are we doing here?"

You don't answer right away, but instead let the cars lined up bumper to bumper in the forest around a romantic fire belonging to Aubrey, Stacie and Luke do the answering for you. There's violet petals circling around a tree stump holding a small black box and as requested, Luke's truck is blaring "Heaven" by Warrant through his speakers; a song you knew Beca would _die_ hearing. There's also twinkling lights hung around some of the other trees, making the whole area glow in beauty.

Aubrey, Stacie, Luke and Jade really brought your vision to reality and you couldn't be more thankful for everything they've done.

Beca looks at you with utter confusion when you park the car, then back out to the forest, then back to you and you can tell she's at a lost for words right now. Gesturing for her to follow, you meet her at the front of your car and intertwine her hand with your sweaty one before pulling her in the direction of where everyone is waiting.

"You and I are pretty much the same person-we use songs to express romantic gestures," you say to Beca under the music, briefly look at Aubrey who has tears in her eyes as she smothers her face into Stacie's chest. You mouth a " _thank you_ " and look back at Beca who for once, you cannot read.

It's only _slightly_ concerning.

"Well, the song speaks the truth," Beca finally speaks up after the initial shock wears off. "Your eyes are like blue, suburban skies." And she hits you out of nowhere with that trademark smirk of hers. "Wanna tell me what's going on?"

"Sure," you reply casually with grin and look towards Luke who is setting up the portable karaoke machine he took from the creepy bar Beca first took you to, connecting the box to the large speakers he has set up in the bed of his truck. "But I'm going to sing it to you."

Beca gets slapped in the face with confusion, especially when you leave her side to join Jade next to the mic stand she brought out, all connected to the karaoke box and speakers. There's even more puzzlement coming from Beca when a line of black cars and trucks circle around the scene, each filled with familiar faces belonging to all the witch hunters who have become more than just your friends.

But your _family_.

"Chloe Beale," Beca calls out your full name as she scans the sudden audience around her, humor lacing her words. She even points an accusing finger at Luke, who is now holding a black guitar in his hands and is set up behind his own mic, looking guilty as ever.

Who knew that you'd find an entire group of friends who could sing or play a musical instrument?

Ignoring everything Beca has to say when hearing Luke beginning to strum the opening notes of the song on his guitar, playing loudly through the speakers, "You like the Beatles right, baby?"

Beca doesn't have a chance to answer this before Jade and her low, alto voice is starting to sing the ultimate classic, "When I'm 64" by the Beatles and you quickly join in, mixing your higher, soprano voice with hers, creating a beautiful harmony you know Beca is dazzled by. Aubrey and Stacie, with phones in their hands, circle around Beca to get a perfect view of her reaction, as well as the performance, and you catch that crooked smile from the distance, almost making it hard to keep up with the song.

But you stand your ground, giving the lyrics everything you got and keeping your performance upbeat, but making sure Beca, for the most part, gets the message.

Simultaneously when the song ends, the audience of hunters shoot of shotguns to surround the forest in a boisterous sounds ( _Thank God you guys are deep in the forest_ ) and cheer like a bunch of psychos to make you turn _beet_ red and hide your embarrassed, face splitting smile

"You're the _biggest_ dork I know," Beca says to you when you jog up to her, winded from singing and all the adrenaline coursing through your veins. She has on the biggest smile you think you've ever seen her wear and doesn't miss a beat before grabbing your hands and intertwining her fingers through yours. "And by the way, I fucking _love_ the Beatles and I loved the song. My girl definitely has good taste in music."

"I knew you would," you giggle and dip your head slightly, all of a sudden timid, but lift your face back up to meet Beca's loving gaze. "Beca, you're _insane_ ," you admit quietly but firmly, still out of breath and smiling way to large. "You dress like you're the lead singer in a grungy rock band, every other word out of your mouth is a curse word, you have way too many cars, you filter pain in the presence of humor, you're sarcastic, grumpy and hate all early 2000's pop music like a psychopath except for the Spice Girls and yet… oh, man, I'm completely and _totally_ in love with you."

Beca's laughs are watery, she's cocking her jaw at an angle and she's alternating with looking into your eyes and briefly up towards the sky and you know she's trying not to cry right now. You're fighting your own tears as you get deeper into your speech.

"You give me this constant high, euphoric feeling when I'm with you that feels like I could walk through fire and not get burned. I never thought I'd be thankful for my life to be in danger by a bunch of witches that took over my sorority, but _God_ , _Beca_...I don't know what I would've done if I wouldn't have met you. I know for sure I wouldn't be the strong, fearless woman you transformed me into today and still scared of my own shadow, or to branch out and try new things like you taught me to do. Because I have met you, I have found my best friend, my partner, my girlfriend and together, we make a pretty _badass_ team."

Tears are evident as you find it impossible to keep them in any longer, especially when you see that Beca's own dams have broken and her cheeks are wet and her eyes are bloodshot, but mesmerizingly beautiful nonetheless.

You clear your throat before continuing, "Before my grandma passed, she would always tell me ' _you like because and you love despite._ ' You like someone because of all their qualities and you love someone despite all of their qualities. Beca, I like you almost as much as I love you." Glancing around, everyone is sharing their own tears soaking in the moment; Aubrey is hysterical, Stacie is enjoying the recording part way too much and you even catch a few rare tears come from Jade's eyes where's she's cuddled up next to Luke, which means pigs are flying.

Pulling Beca by the hand in front of the tree stump where you pick up the black box sitting on top, Beca intently watching your every move, "so what do you say?" You open the box revealing a 3 carat, black diamond princess cut ring in 14k black gold and take a knee-something you've _always_ wanted to do. "Will you marry me?"

* * *

 **Halloween, 1 Year Later**

"I can't say I've ever been to a _black_ wedding," Aubrey, your maid of honor, comments absentmindedly as she fixes your hair, perfecting a simple updo that shows off the length of your neck and giving everyone a clear view of the stunning, long, diamond teardrop earrings Beca surprised you with for Christmas last year.

Exaggeration has always been Aubrey's trademark; it's not a _full_ black wedding like everyone is picturing. Yes, there's a lot of black, _more_ black than the ideal, white weddings young girls dream about, but that's incredibly boring. And if you learned anything with the time spent with Beca is that you two _never_ do anything boring.

In the past and like most people, you always associated black with death and a _not-so-happy_ color, but that was before you met Beca, the _literal_ light to your life no matter if she is always seen in her trademark black leather and skinny jeans. Now, you associate the color with elegance and strength and beauty and so much more that perfectly sums up what a treasure your _fiancée_ and soon to be _wife_ is.

"You and Beca really outdid yourselves; it's very beautiful," Aubrey adds to her previous statement, flashing a genuine smile through the mirror towards you that shows she means every last word. "The venue is absolutely…" she pauses, trying to find the perfect description to fit the wedding venue you and Beca picked out-the Beverly Hills Hotel-but becomes speechless. "And your dress...Chloe, you look _amazing_. Honestly, I'm at a lost for words"

You blush at all the compliments and remind Aubrey she has seen you in the dress before, so stop trying to turn you permanently beet red before the ceremony even starts. You'd like to save all the tears and makeup Stacie applied for the moment you see Beca, because even practicing your vows to Aubrey and Stacie produced a _waterfall_ amount of tears as you read the first line.

And you know for a fact the exact second you lay eyes on Beca in her dress that you have yet to see will produce _quadruple_ the amount of tears you're expecting during the wedding.

Unlike the bridesmaids and groom (Luke is Beca's groomsmen) who are dressed in pure black dresses to match perfectly with the classic wedding decor, you're able to walk down the aisle wearing a Karlee, off the shoulder, fitted wedding dress that's a beautiful, bleach white with crystallized, laced sleeves and a elegant flare bottom.

You fell in love with the dress as soon as the material clung to your body, giving all your curves the highlight they needed and the way Stacie and Emily (your other bridesmaids) were in permanent _awe_ , you knew this dress was the one. When you displayed the dress for Jade, who was Beca's bridesmaid-she left her maid of honor spot empty for her mom, which about broke your heart in the best way- Jade had the same reaction.

She even told you-you have great shoulders and collarbones, which is another reason why you picked out the dress-you always love a good physique compliment.

When Aubrey announces that you're good to go, you stand up from the chair, straightening your dress to rid any crinkles from sitting. You spin in a slow motion circle for Aubrey to observe everything; the dress, the hair, your spray tan that you got with Beca and the girls earlier in the week and anything else she can point out. It's a lot going on and you feel very out of place wearing so much diamonds and an expensive, fancy dress-you have black, french tip nails for _crying out loud._

But with all of this stuff, you feel like a _literal_ princess and can't wait to see how jaw dropping _beautiful_ Beca looks.

"No cold feet?" Aubrey chuckles lightheartedly, standing behind you in the mirror where you're busy examining the full get up and snort when you hear Aubrey's question. Despite all the nervous, pre wedding jitters, your elation and ecstasy through it all outweighs the nerves.

"More like _hot_ feet," you retort back, squinting your eyes as you try to process what you meant by the made up term. Aubrey gives you the same look of confusion and you wave it off, tossing the term into the imaginary dumpster. "Whatever, I'm _so_ ready for this," you exhale exasperated.

No one understands just how ready you are to be called Beca's wife.

 _Chloe Mitchell._

At first Beca wanted to take your last name and was set on it, but you weren't having it.

" _Babe, your last name holds so much power, so much significance that I want to be apart of it. Beale, yeah, the name holds its own history and importance, but nothing compared to a Mitchell." You squeeze Beca's hands tightly, making her look up into your eyes to see that you mean every last word from the bottom of your heart. "You guys are pretty fucking great."_

And you don't know whether it was the cursing, or the passionate kiss you stunned her with after saying this that was able to win your argument, but you know you're making the right decision.

Plus, your brothers are carrying out the Beale name, both being married and their wives taking the last name. Other than Warren and Anne ( _maybe_ ), there's not a lot of Mitchell's left in the world-that you know of.

Looking at your phone and seeing an unread message from the devil herself,

 **[The LOML :) 5:45 PM]: I can't wait to marry you**

With a megawatt smile, this is all you need to make your decision; the _best_ damn decision you've ever made.

"I'm ready," you repeat again after going through a small time-lapse of everything that has happened, now more eager to get married than ever. You're eager to see all of your family and friends and Bella sisters and Luke and Jade and see how beautiful your wedding turns out.

You're _especially_ eager to see Beca that waiting any longer might just kill you, so that's a problem you want to avoid at least until you've kissed the girl, showed the world your's and her's first dance-the duet you two did together, followed by Mariah Carey's "Fantasy", by the way-and shoved the cake in her face- _come on!_

"Alright then," Aubrey seems convinced when she fixes your diamond headpiece caught in your hair and winks at you from behind, handing over your black and white bouquet. "Let's go get you _wifed_ up, Mrs. Mitchell."

* * *

 **Halloween, 6 years later**

 _Where to even start, you guys?_

Long story short, Beca and you are now officially married; she's your freaking _wife_ and just recently going on six years of being your wife, which means she's just as happy as you are because she hasn't left you yet.

Kidding, the two of you are a _nauseating_ amount of happy being married together and are basically stuck living in the honeymoon stage.

And speaking of honeymoon, remember that time Beca proposed the idea of traveling to Ibiza before the two of you crashed a witch invested masquerade party happening in your former sorority house?

Yeah, well she wasn't joking.

Immediately after the wedding, she flew you out to Spain where you guys took the island by storm, experiencing the exotic beaches, the crazy, European clubs she got to spin at- _as well as the crazy drugs_ \- and even surprised you with a visit into the city, Valencia for a romantic dinner with a brand new evening dress to wear. Needless to say, the week away from reality and spending all of it with your newly announced wife was the best time in your life.

Eventually you guys had to leave no matter how badly you wanted to stay in Spain forever. You had to go back to teaching kids music before Christmas time when you always had a giant, musical performance involving all the hit Christmas songs while Beca continued doing what she does best, making music and, of course, being the _best_ wife in the world.

And all this became a routine on the side of living a content, happy married life together until January of this year came around, six years later, when you and Beca decided to try and get pregnant.

You knew you always wanted to become a mother someday, but never wanted to be able to raise kids with someone as bad as you do now that you're married to Beca. Honestly, you knew you wanted to grow a family with Beca you think...the moment you and her exchanged "I Do's," so six years ago, but you had to wait financially and until your life was set at a constant speed to bring another little one out into the real world.

With your job going better than great and Beca spending most her time making music at home with the studio she built in the basement, you brought the topic up again and Beca was even more for it than she had been in the past when you mentioned wanting kids. Her past was what kept her a little _iffy_ on the situation, all the witch hunting stuff, but now that Jade has taken over most the organization and there hasn't been any issues for years, Beca promised to put witch hunting behind her for the sake of her _life_ and focus on the building of your guys' family.

The process- _dear lord_ \- the process was comical to you and Beca as she kept making jokes about not knowing how everything happens and, " _you think they are going to stick a turkey baster up there? Should I bring oven mitts?"_

You'd laugh like a hyena and send a smack to land somewhere on her body. " _Shut up, Beca! Oh my God!"_ You prayed that wasn't the case, but both of you were just as clueless as to what happens.

That's also another reason why you guys decided to go to the doctors to have the procedure done and not take up the challenge yourselves. So once you guys found a perfect match to be a donor at the Seattle Sperm Bank; he had flaming red hair, bright blue eyes, Irish ethnicity and average height to mix perfectly with all your genes since Beca basically _begged_ to live in a house with a mini Chloe, you guys took the goods to the doctors, got inseminated with the goods and awaited to see if there was a bun in the oven.

Luckily for both of you, only one cycle of IUI done and apparently your levels of egg count being _exceptionally_ high during the time (ladybug tattoo), three weeks later, menstrual cycle five days late, one time peeing on stick, three more weeks after that and on came puke city galore, the uncontrollable mood swings, extreme horniness and the very _bizarre_ food cravings.

Now, roughly nine months and 39 ½ weeks later, you and Beca are sitting on the couch in front of the movie theatre size T.V Beca installed in the house, watching Sugar Rush on Netflix while you're caught between Beca's legs, feeding her spoonfuls of ice cream as the container rests on your very _large_ baby bump that is currently holding not just one unborn baby, but _two_.

"What are the odds the girls come tonight? They are a week overdue; it's time for them to come out," Beca speaks up during the boring part where all the judges get introduced to all the bakers. She doesn't talk much when the baking is happening, except making side comments about what's actually happening on the show and how _it's fucking stupid that the judges eat the cupcakes with forks._

You bounce your head in thought and mindlessly start to rub at your very swollen stomach bump that could honestly burst any second. So the possibility is high. "I don't know, we have a habit of making all our Halloweens together unique and special each year." From the blood moon crisis, to you proposing, to you and Beca getting married, it only made sense for you to give birth to the twins on Halloween night.

Except that it's three o'clock in the afternoon on Halloween _today_ , and who knows how long your labor will last.

"Anne is on my ass about your pregnancy," Beca mentions in a grumble at the same time she tosses her phone carelessly onto the coffee table. "Seriously, she won't leave me alone."

Ever since Beca invited her to the wedding because she felt guilty if she didn't, especially since she wasn't the one to tell her about their mother's death, Warren was, Anne has weaseled her way back into your wife's life and you don't really know how you feel about it. Other than being ridiculously pretty-should've figured having Lou's genes and all-she seemed nice when you were introduced to her at the wedding reception.

It was the weirdest thing and still is, but she has an abnormally _high_ fascination with your hair and eyes to the point where it's kind of creepy and definitely not normal. You've asked Beca about it, but she usually uses the excuse that a natural redhead with blue eyes are a _very_ rare find, which you knew-you've heard this loads of time before.

But still.

It's strange.

"Maybe she's trying to score Ellie Goulding tickets?" You chose to be playful as your response back, not wanting to get into something serious involving Anne. Plus, everyone tries to get the hook up from Beca and whoever she happens to be working with.

Even _you_ try and, duh, always end the day with a new snippet of an unreleased song or a couple backstage tickets to a few concerts- _thank you puppy dog eyes._

Beca scoffs and places her hands on top of yours that are laying on your stomach. "I _wish_ she was asking for that shit. Right now, she's all concerned about your pregnancy, asking how you're feeling, if your water broke and if you're in labor yet. She's pretty set on the twins coming tonight."

 _See? That's freaking weird!_

"Just tell her I feel fine and we _promise_ to let her know the exact second the twins decide they're ready to be taken out," you say this, but also kinda hope Beca forgets to text Anne because there's a chance she might fly in from Seattle to coach you through the delivery. "But I have a feeling it's not today." You feel Beca deflate behind you, making you grin wide, but sympathetically.

She's been more excited during your months of being pregnant than you have and that's saying a lot because you've been counting down the days until you can hold your daughters in your arms. Beca has been the most supportive, reading all the mommy books, taking the best care of you even when you're moody or emotional and helping around the house when your " _pregnant lady waddle_ " gets in the way.

It's Beca's absolute _favorite_ thing about your pregnancy.

That and the extra cup size in your breasts.

She is very fond of that added detail.

"So no contractions yet?"

"Not that I feel in the moment. They've been coming and going these last couple days," you mumble over a spoon of chocolate ice cream; Beca's disappointment only grows knowing contractions are a warning sign, but assure to her sweetly that the twins will be popped out regardless. When you went past your due date-and though it was a little scary and gave you anxiety wondering if your girls were okay-you had to assure her that they were both healthy and a due date is an estimation for giving birth, not a date set in stone.

"How's your back? I know it's been bugging you and that's a sign we should should call Dr. Alvarez. Plus two days ago you were 3 cm dilated."

"Well, _yeah_ , I'm triple my size carrying two humans, my lumbar spine feels like it's about to snap in two," you retort sarcastically, but with a teasing grin. "My mom said both my brothers and I all had unique births, she was hit out of nowhere with going into labor, _three times_ , so I expect nothing less with the twins."

"You'll let me know if something feels... _different_ , right?" You ease Beca's worry, giving her a head nod and kissing the back of her hand, enough to make her drop the subject for now. "Stacie sent me this kangaroo, pouch carrier thing with like... _six_ different positions and think it would be super beneficial to get for us."

You can't help but chuckle, picturing the image of Beca carrying one of the twins on her chest and it's too _freaking_ cute for words. "Those two are already spoiling the twins and they haven't even been born yet! The girls' room is already packed with stuff from the shower and gifts Aubrey and Stacie send."

Beca chuckles softly, knowing it's true. "Well, _duh_ , Aubrey's a big time lawyer in Washington and Stacie's in that NASA pathways program. At least we know the girls are going to have great aunts that spoil them with all the sweets."

Shaking your head at the thought of those two married brainiacs, "speaking of sweets..." You slowly lift yourself up, looking a lot like a turtle who has rolled onto their shell. Once you're at a sitting position and out of breath from pulling up all the extra weight, "what's Halloween without stealing some of the trick-or-treaters' candy for ourselves?"

Beca's smile curves mischievous. "You know me so well." And then gives your butt a quick, unexpected pinch with googly eyes as you pass by, earning herself a high pitched squeak from you before continuing your journey into the kitchen.

On the way there, you get lost in your thoughts as you picture life with two little ones running around the house, chasing each other and causing all the chaos little kids cause. Washing dishes while one of the twins are in your " _kangaroo_ " pouch, or taking a early morning walk with Beca where she's carrying the other twin in her own carrier.

You've always dreamt of having a family with someone who completes you and makes life easy and interesting and spontaneous all at the same time. You've never expected to be this happy, at the age of thirty, to have a great job, a beautiful home, married to an incredible woman and about to give birth to twin girls.

But of course you never saw yourself in this position because the level of happiness you feel right now seems unreachable.

That is until you let Beca and she made you feel a lot of different things you've never felt before.

"Oh how I wish my wife would bring out the bowl of candy! I could really use a KitKat bar!"

You hear an impatient Beca yell from the living room, breaking you out of your thoughts that you don't know how long you were stuck in. Giggling at your wife, you scout out the glass bowl filled to the brim with Halloween candy and waddle over to retrieve it. Once you have the bowl in your hands and are already picking out the candy you call dibs on, something happens.

And by _something,_ you mean you heard a pop, followed quickly by a gush of very warm liquid to gather in a puddle at your feet and down your bare legs, feeling like someone put a hose on full blast between your legs.

First thought, _did I just pee?_

Second thought, _no it's not pee._

Third and final thought, _holy shit,_ _ **it's not pee!**_

Once you realize what just happened, "Beca, baby!" you call out to your wife calmly and set the candy bowl back on the counter; a change of plans have occurred. Each step, more water slips out between your legs and it's really the grossest feeling ever; you've always wondered what it would feel like. Can't say you enjoyed it.

Nor are you really excited to experience going into labor- _anxious_ , yes, but more so _terrified_.

 _But really, really and then some more excited._

"You guys might be Halloween babies after all," you mumble down to your stomach, how excited you are to meet the two is just overwhelming.

"What's up?" Beca yells back and seems calm in the moment. You know the second you drop the bomb, informing her that _um, this is really happening right now and I need you to drive me to the hospital,_ she's going to freak and you'll need to calm her down somehow.

"Hey, what's going on-" Beca's in the kitchen now that you never answered her back and doesn't even finish her sentence before she notices the puddle of water on the wooden tile and you holding your stomach, eyes stretching so wide they could pop from her skull when everything pieces together.

Smiling with tears in your own eyes; Beca looks seconds away from having a panic attack or fainting, her respiratory _basically_ malfunctioning, "pack the car, baby," you order your catatonic wife calmly. "Stevie and Lou are ready to meet us."

* * *

 **Oh look at that… a chapter left open ended? Hmmmm, whatever could that mean?**


End file.
